Rain

The golden glow of the street lamps mirrors in the puddles pocketed by marks of falling rain. Each drip has a different pitch like notes in a complex melody. The air is cool and smells of new growth. Car wheels disturbing the dancing pools send a crescendo of sound through the fresh air. Occasionally a car stops in a driveway and the passenger darts quickly under shelter, dodging the oncoming drips. Blossoming trees caress their drooping flowers as drops cling to them as if afraid of the fall. The pink and purple hues of the sky peek over the shadowed clouds. No stars venture out from its deep folds.
She is part of the fairy-tale scene. Her oversized sweatshirt envelops her within it’s thick fabric. Her jeans are dotted with wet patches and the hem drags on the cement. It is soaked due to her splashing in the stream of puddles near the side of the street. Her canvas shoes soak her socks underneath. She carries no umbrella but often raises her smiling face letting the raindrops hop across her face. Her movements are graceful. Sometimes she walks, sometimes she stands, and sometimes she twirls. She throws out her arms and dances.
Whoever said only sunshine brings happiness has never danced in the rain.