Rain going to bed…stars at 6:00 am.

I love this kind of morning. It is also so nostalgic and refreshing to hear the roosters cock-a-doodle-dooing here in the country (just 18 miles from downtown Chattanooga!) before sunrise. I hope and pray Ammon and Carter will continue to grow up here…Lord willing!

I wanted to share this poem with you all today. The rain from last night and all the spring flowers are what brought it to my mind. It is by Robert Loveman who lived in Dalton, Georgia.

The Rain Song

It isn’t raining rain to me,

It’s raining daffodils;

In every dimpled drop I see

Wild flowers on the hill.

 The clouds of grey engulf the day

And overwhelm the town;

It isn’t raining rain to me,

It’s raining roses down.

 It isn’t raining rain to me,

But fields of clover bloom,

Where any a buccaneering bee

May find a bed and room.

 A health unto the happy

A fig for him who frets.

It isn’t raining rain to me,

It’s raining violets.