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"Anyone who says sunshine brings happiness has never danced in the rain."
Author Unknown
I awoke this morning to a familiar and long awaited sound...rain! The impulse to jump out of bed and go running out the door was halted by the thought that it might be a dream, a wonderful dream. So I lay there looking out through the window blinds and listening to the soft rain spatter gently on the glass. A flash of lightning told me it wasn't a sleeping dream, but very real. To waste another minute in bed would have been a tragedy, so I pitter-pattered to the kitchen to pour a cup of hot coffee before I picked up a notebook and pen making my way to the front porch. And now I sit here in my night clothes, eyes soaking in the colors, textures, movements and depth of the shower, ears letting every detail of sound flow into them, longing to feel the cool rain on my face.
The trees, bushes and grass seem to stretch out to get more rainwater to wash the summer dust from all the nooks and crannies. Green pine trees with trunks and limbs wet to a dark brown against the backdrop of a soft gray sky. The Birch's white trunks turn a shade of khaki as they drink in the moisture. Their leaves growing along delicate limbs flitter and dance like excited children on Christmas morning. The leaves no longer make the dry rustling sound of a hot summer, but they clap faintly as wet leaves stick together and blow apart.
Perched atop the flagpole that holds the U.S. flag, a small blue bird is content to sit and feel the rain wash over its body. It shakes its saturated feathers to allow fresh water to drizzle over it again. The gray and white mockingbirds, quiet for so long during the dog days of summer, now sing with great happiness and enthusiasm in the shower.
The blissful breeze is cool and blows a light spray of sweet rain onto my face, shoulders and arms. Rain droplets hang randomly under the porch rails bouncing gently as the breeze blows past; the heaviest one dropping to nourish the ground below.
Lightning flashes and lights the dark sky from behind. Then the deep, comforting sound of thunder slowly rolls in from the heavens and whispers peace into my ear. I can imagine that I hear the earth sigh deeply with relief.
"The world is mud-luscious and puddle-wonderful."
e. e. cummings
And I am happy.
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