A little rain pitter-patter downs, takes the form of little droplets, lets the earth be washed over with it’s calm, with it’s nostalgia. The little rain travels through the earth, drips down the leaves of the trees, falls into the streams, swims through the lakes, reaches the mountain and drowns deep into the ground.
Content, buried underneath the ground, snuggled against the earth. Waiting for the rest of it’s brethren to join.
Little droplets take away into a massive rumbling thunderstorm. The wind sways and the tree’s hold firm, the leaves crumble and fly away. The flowers wilt and collapse, but it’s okay, because with a little more calm, with a little more water, with a little more love they can rise once again, become fresh and cheerful.
And eventually it fades, ebbs away, the thunder comes to a rest and the rain falls with something akin to gentleness, something akin to peace and tranquility. It serenades the world, a steady hum against the walls and a steady drum against the rooftop.
With your head tilted against the window, watching the drops race against one another, imagining the bubbling laughter they would let out if they could when they win, when they lose, when they join together and become faster, quicker.
And when you leave your house to run into the rain, to dance and jump into puddles, to catch them in your hands and watch them drip down, to let the rain kiss your skin, to throw the rain water at others and splash. The simple wonders of rain, the simple wonders of happiness.
Simply the desires of rain, to overwhelm it’s participants with calm rather than fear and cold. Despite it’s rage and anger, which it tries to dispel, to bring only a sense of...serenity.
A storm of resentment and rage, a storm of anger, but slowly, the anger drains away, The rain wonders why it bothered with rage, but rage overtakes it, just as easily as peace leaves us. And so, Rain decree, to seek peace, to seek calm, to let the anger leave. To prevent the rage from becoming an identity, to be that of gentle and restful instead. People can love rain and be afraid of thunderstorms, and Rain wishes to be loved more than feared.
To watch the kids laugh and run around under her, to gently push and prod, to demand warm snacks and drinks, to let it lull them to sleep. She sees the peace and happiness she can fill these lives with, and...despite the hardness of it all, prefers this, wants this.
Because it is okay to want this. And she will claim it
It watches as the little kittens peek from their shelter, let their paws hang out and feel the rain. Watches as the birds return to their nest to let their little younglings nestle up to them for warmth. Watches as the dogs run and let their shouts be carried out with the wind. Watches as the eagle soars through the sky and lets its wings be soaked. Watches as the bears, lions, tigers, cows, all others return into the sheds and covers to admire it from afar. And of, course, all the vile insects and creatures, who come out in the rain.
She watches and lets their happiness become her happiness, she watches and lets her happiness become their happiness. She watches and watches and shares and then fades away.
Lets her scent be shared by the earth, watches once as people and animals leave their homes, to take a deep breath and to take a small walk, watches and smiles, and then, and then she leaves, waiting to return once the people need her again, for now she will rest, slumber in the clouds, resting and floating, she has done her part for now, she will return soon. She hopes.
(The writer wishes to remain anonymous)
(Image from here.)
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