Remember When it Rained

It doesn't take much memory to remember the Rain because the sky is falling as I write. The wind whipping it into an intense deluge, the rain streaks from the sky before the individual particles come to a spattering stop on the sodden earth. The trees, standing as stark sentinels, reach to the grey, lowering sky with barren criss-crossing branches. The wind, whistling through the branches, causes them to sway, and sweep as the rain runs down making its way to the roots beneath. I love it when it rains. I love to stand amidst the torrent, the drops fall on my head and shoulders as the occasional gust drives them into my face and eyes. It gives me a sense of adventure, and yet, conversely, I feel a calm observance of nature come over me. I love it when it rains.

John