Rain is what comes down. If something is coming up it is not rain. Rain is cold but
can feel warm on the right day. It will not make you dry, no matter how much you let
it hit you.
It can make you happy or sad, depending upon the hour and how sensitive you are.
Alone it cannot be called rain. Meaning, a drop of water is not rain, the same way a
person cannot be people.
It will get you wet. Rain is often compared to crying. It is not crying, though crying in
it can be convenient—your emotions may be less exposed—your face in the
confusion of moisture may just look water logged. Perfect.
Rain is needed for things. We could call areas that receive no rain rainless, but
instead we call them deserts. In most places, rain happens. It hits houses and
slides down windowpanes. It’s pretty, what rain does to glass. Birds don’t mind it and
usually take baths after showers.
If the drops comes down in fast, hard shoots the rain can look like a million legs for
one big cloud. The skinniest stilts.
Rain can sound all kinds of ways, and each rhythm can be characterized as good.
There is lots of slopping and small popping, drip, drip, dripping and these drops all
fall to make a chorus there is no good word for. It’s a rain band, all percussion and
no front man.
Rain is popular.
Most people like rain; but not if it stays for uncomfortable amounts of time or causes
floods, illness, etc. Rain does not always know when to come and go. You can neither
invite it anywhere nor keep it from going where it is not wanted. No one controls
the rain. Today, especially, it will not stop.