Rain

It starts
small.
Tiny
little
droplets
hit the roof,
pitter-pattering,
leaving mud on the
shingles, like brown tears
running down a ramp. The wind
joins the rain to form a storm. It screams
and the rain stomps, creating a loud sound on the roof.

Windows, left open, welcome the rain in. It drops into the house
like a thief, scaring the cat on the windowsill out of its wits.
It screeches and runs away. The thunder applauds.
The wind, not wanting to be forgotten,
decides to blow harder. Trees
shake, tremble,
frightened
of the
rain.

Branches
fall off of their waving arms.

The rain pours down, buckets and buckets of water from the heavens.
Sensing the end of its reign and rain,
a last pitiful bolt of lightning
flashes, wanting to
keep the storm
going.

The storm is declining, the thunder quieting, the wind stopping
The rain is all that is left, dropping quietly
embracing the house that
so willingly let it
fall onto
it.

The people arrive, unaware of the
drama that they have just missed.


All they see is a wet house, broken
trees, and more work to do.
They missed the rain.
They missed the storm.
They missed their chance.