The cold rain rolling cross my window pane. As it falls from the sky. 
The clouds drain and die. The trees they shake and shudder. 

As if frightened by the thunder. 
The wind blows their leafless limbs. Like a crowd of lovers waving goodbye. 

The lakes and rivers dance with ripples. The streams and creeks flood with water. Like the high ways on a Monday morning.

As the water falls to the ground.