They say it will rain soon.

I gaze the sky, then watch the weather channel, looking for a sign, a mistake in forecasts.
Tons of mishaps and problems: a broken tractor, a sobbing fridge.
I keep forgetting a lot of things I should have done: I know this is because we had to harvest BabyRose yesterday, and we couldn’t.

And it's going to rain today.

Here she comes, at the end, and she’s pink and beautiful.
She’s good, delicious, and she smells of sea breeze and strawberries.

And I can smile again.