At first I cajole them, tell them their wisps stretch out like the spines and wings of angels and dragons, I compare them one to another–formidable strangers towering in sun-soaked splendor,

But when they keep back the rain, it is I who begins to storm, arms stretched and gesticulating wildly

Speak! I say

Rain! I say

Like the petulant child I am

Stomping my feet in anger,

As though that could work

As though it might just

Bring more than stray showers