The clear glass puddles ripple with morning light
The river rushes fast and dizzying under the bridge
And iridescent drops hover from the trees

Somehow, even the air tastes different
Though it is the same school yard air it always is
It tastes adventurous, mysterious
Tastes like a promise that today will be different

It tastes like a place I imagined once
The wind carrying the scent of the story before it starts,
and I remember that even fairy tale characters have history to learn

I stand under the rain and pull the hood from my face
letting it pound into my eyes until it blurs everything I see

The rain, reminding me once again of how to dream