Rain descends, our run’s undone, To Stephens House we’re not to come. A garden lovely, paths so green, Today, in raindrops, won’t be seen.

We marvel at this weather strange, A sign of climate’s shifting range. Global warming’s subtle tale, In every storm and every gale.

Yet, we'll gather on a brighter day, When clouds have cleared and skies are gay. For now, we wait, with hearts still warm, To run again through Stephens' charm.