Rinsed.

I love the dark and dreary,
-the days of hidden sun;

when the clouds release their pressures,
and from them waters run;

pouring on the greenery,
soaking leaves, grass, pines;

seeping through their darkness,
-oh how soaked darkness shines!

It's a world of dark-green glory:

a haven for the sad,
a hope from hopeless measures,
a washing for the mad.

It's rinsing, rushing, rithim,
-renewal at its best.

It's flushing, freeing, stillness;

and for me,
gentle rest.