It's 12:37 in the morning
and as a new day is a little more than half way though it's first hour of existence
the rain starts to drop.
It's said that each storm begins with only a single drop.
But that can't be true because as I'm lying here,
the abundance of rain drops all crashing down at once
couldn't have begun with
just one falling all alone.
Most don't understand my love for rain.
They say the rain is too grey and
too cold.
But rain brings life.
But rain brings peace.
But rain brings rest.
It's now 12:49 and the day has almost made it through
the first hour.
The rain celebrates with
the young life of this new day by giving the flowers a reason to still bloom,
even though the sun has scorched them,
this downpour allows them to live another day
giving beauty in an world that's undeserving.
It gives peace to those who have been haunted by the silence,
the stillness of the humid evening.
It gives rest to me
when last night's sleep was so difficult to hold on to
and waking with the sun was frustratingly impossible.
It's 1:04 in the morning
and as a new day is only a few minutes through it's second hour of existence,
the rain ceases to drop.