Raining.
The soft delicate eye drops fall from the clouds. They are silent, until moment of impact.
Raining.
Despite the randomness of their descent their explosions against windows and such create a unique tune, a consistent sound near impossible to simply imitate. It calms me. Though the drops my freeze my skin they warm my heart, and relax my mind.
Raining.
Just add a little and it’ll trap kids inside, and water a garden. Add just a bit more and suddenly it becomes more powerful, destructive, dangerous- the soft pit-pat becomes replaced with gigantic WHOOSHES and CRASHES and it sweeps through and leaves nothing useful in its wake what was once merely a subtle nuisance has now become a harbinger of loss.
Raining.
While one place takes in the peace and quiet, the other receives hateful waves.
Raining.
It’s almost as if something- or someone- is crying.