5 minutes after the last post, the rain began to patter the roof of my house. I thought of my jeep, in the driveway with the windows cracked, but i'm sure it will survive.
Rain is an amazing thing, really. Some hate it, some love it, but it always falls evenly, on everyone.
theres something more to it too, than just drops of water, churned out by angry, or sad, clouds. cleansing, washing away, life, renewal...the symbolism could be cut with a knife. but then again, its just stupid rain. or is it?
It is an opportunity to make an excellent cup of tea.
No matter how hard i wave my arms in an attempt to make it go away, the rain will stay, an imposing yet peaceful presence in the night. It's a lot bigger and more significant than me, and for a moment I am shaken out of my chronic selfishness.
The bricks are cold upon my feet as I walk out front for a moment...the rain laps down my face, as I have temporarily imposed myself on precipitation's kingdom. Such pity for the small plants struggling to grow between the bricks...their fate should have been Round-Up, but they're not hurting anyone. Struggle for survival so often is independent and aloof.