Drains dripping, dippety-dip,
Soft cones rise, growing green.
Cockatoos wheel and screech above
Dying drum beat – drip … drip.
That's if for our little sojourn among the pines but we'll be back because those soft cones appear ever other year and bust pollen in the Autumn I'm sure to want to show you it when it happens.
Job 38:28-30 (New International Version)
Does the rain have a father?
Who fathers the drops of dew?
From whose womb comes the ice?
Who gives birth to the frost from the heavens
when the waters become hard as stone,
when the surface of the deep is frozen?