Gentle Rain

This quiet morning I heard the soft melody of the rainfall outside,
I saw the damp ground drowning under the cloudy puddles.
I see little droplets growing, then struggling to hang on the branches,
It falls, falls, falls to the ground and gets soaked up under the soggy leaves.
The pines wave their branch-like hands as the fog around them falls.
All is still, the bright white skies pour their showers no longer,
But the rain still falls- from the trees.