On a lighter note:
Here’s a children’s poem from Language Arts, Volume 62, Number 8, December 1985.
The Editor wrote me a nice note, saying, “Gary, you’re the best.”
Aw, shucks.

Rain, slap my face,
Over and over,
As I race
For cover.
I can’t dodge between the drops
When their falling never stops.
Even the air I breathe is wet,
Quick and cold, and yet
Rain runs off my nose
Like a leaky garden hose.
I feel my hair clinging to my head,
Dripping in my eyes, instead
Of following lightly every move,
For nothing’s dry here or above,
My clothes are soaking through,
My feet are squishing in each shoe,
But I’m laughing and running together
With this very wet weather.