Rain for Rudbeckia

By the weathered barn, she endured the downpour with grace—face crumpled a bit, sure, but shining brightly like a lemony Skittle on that gray day. I watched from my bedroom window, the glass bedazzled with diamonds fresh from the sky. I knew nothing could be done for her out there; rescue from the rain would have been the end of my friend. She must drink to grow, to thrive—alive. This storm would grant that and more, for the rain works wonders impossible for the sun.  

O blessed Rudbeckia, bloom on; may we be bright Skittles in the storm!