maybe the rain is the sky trying to cry slow enough for us to call it beautiful.
if it falls too fast, we drown. it rises. but sometimes a light rain is all the sky can cry
the grey streches til it tears it swells with what it wants to say thunder never asks permission it snaps. cracks. as if grief. as if memory. like sadness that's left too quiet to scream
we stand under it anyway our hoods behind the nape palms to the sky pretending it's just weather.