It’s reminded me of this poem by Christopher Fry. I think we had to recite it at school - many hears ago! I could just about remember part of the first verse!
That is rain on dry ground. We heard it:
We saw the little tempest in the ground,
The panic of anticipation: heard
The uneasy leaves flutter, The air pass
In a wave, the fluster of the vegetation:
Head the first spatter of drops, the outriders
Larruping on the road, hitting against
The gate of the drought, and shattering
On to the lances of the tottering meadow
It is rain; It is rain on dry ground.
Rain riding suddenly out of the air
Battering the bare walls of the sun.
It is falling on the lounge of the blackbird,
Into the heart of the thrush ; the dazed valley
Sings it down. Rain, rain on dry ground!
This the urgent decision of the day,
The urgent drubbing of earth ,The urgent raid
On the dust ; downpour over the flaring poppy,
Deluge on the face of noon, the flagellent
Rain drenching across the air.- The day
Flows in the ditch ; bubble and twisting twig
And the sudden morning swirl along together
Under the crying hedge.And where the sun
Ran on the scythes, the rain runs down
The obliterated field ,the blunted crop.
The air is sprung with green.
The intercepted drops
Fall at their leisure; and between
The threading runnels on the slopes
The snail drags his caution into the sun.