Hawaiian Hilltop (Taggard collection)/Kona Rain
KONA RAIN
The rice is blowing, winnowed with the rain,Across our pond, the broken rushes drift;Beyond the fields, the tree's a scarlet stainWhere we were yesterday.Your hands are swift—(Oh—dear, your hands are swift . . . )To turn my face from this wet window pane;Across our pond, the broken rushes drift—The rice is blowing, winnowed with the rain.