RainGrumpy, grumbly little symbols which, well, rain down from above and wetten us with splashing dashes of dumbfounded droplets in either quick succession or a more staccato arrangement and no matter the method the sentiment is all the same. Either way, our spoiled dryness tickles a nerve and we often become upset.
Poor person caught unawares in a leaky downpour, soaked and soggy and now forced to sit as her own limbs drip drops and form puddles that rewetten her endlessly. Poor other person, trusting in an umbrella with its sham safety - its spoked rim simply routes a heavier stream directly down onto his unsuspecting shoulders as he hunches into the wind whilst walking. Is anyone happy in the rain? A boy, perhaps maybe, walking into an afternoon movie leaving behind a nice sunny day for the quiet darkness and mildewy smell of the enclosed cinematic womb - how his six or seven or eight year old mind cannot understand the world he walks out into after the curtain falls. How he finds upon the ground a pointilist scene made by the downpour, everchanging save for the constant pitterpattering which dots the image infinitely. Even without a proper coat to cover himself, he walks home as though on an entirely different planet, one where he is no longer trapped in the same sagging self who walked into that movie just two hours prior. An entire world transformed all while he was locked in some dark room watching the projections of someone else's imagination. Maybe he'll even approach the wrong house and enter it all the same, mistaking it for his own. Maybe life can reroute itself as distinctly as this change in climate. Oh.
Oh, the trees though - but the trees. Don't they too sing? Warble. Thrush.
There must be fifty million plus more songs and poems (versified or free of rhyme) dedicated to the subject and what's another? As though one drop makes all the difference. As if you get less wet if you run faster through it. As if we'd dry quicker if the sun came out. What's one more hour of this? There must be some threshold between soaked and soaking, a half life of dryness.
Mostly, though, most of all: We need demand to be bundled up and cuddled properly while the rain rains down and the storm storms. Not only a roof, but, if we are lucky, another warm body and a bed complete with sheet, pillow and wooly afghan. C0ccooned placidly. This is what we require of the rain.
