A Raindrop Falls

The simplest thing in life is rain.
So simple yet so fabulous,
From untamed skies watch it fall
To bring life forth from barren ground.
It wets parched Earth's lips,
A thirst quenched drop by drop.

I see nothing on my rapid drop.
My life is short, the life of rain,
A descent to nature's waiting lips.
Too simple to be fabulous.
Then I shatter on the ground
At the end of my fall.

O, rain of spring, summer, and fall,
A life is held in each drop.
Upon the reaching of the ground
One hears the spatter of the rain.
A noble life so fabulous
To wet the words of speaking lips.

The words issued from those lips
May curse the fact that I must fall.
How, I ask, is this fabulous?
I am only but a single drop.
I am not the whole of rain.
I do not show upon the ground.

To greet the womb of plants, the ground,
It heals the wound 'pon its dry lips.
It gives the greens a living force, the rain.
In haste to do this in its fall
To the earthen floor it makes a drop.
A purpose made to be fabulous.

I can find no aspect fabulous
In dying on the cold, hard ground.
No wound is healed in my drop.
I briefly bemuse what comes from others' lips.
I meet my end when there's no room left to fall.
C'est la vie du pleut.

It is fabulous work done to feed all lips.
No. From air to ground I simply fall.
Then fell the drop with the rain.