rain

rain all day, rain all night . . . from my past i know this, the pacific northwest. there is something comforting about rain. it brings peace, a cleansing, a silence between the rhythmic drops. rain speaks to me of rolling mountains, forests that go on forever, misty downtown streets at night, the howl of a foghorn warning boats and ships of the jutting of land, a shallow place they should not go. you can be alone in rain like you can't be in the sun, alone and a bit wild because there is nowhere to be. walking in the rain, watching for puddles because there's nothing like squishy, wet socks in wet shoes. rain drips from the branches of trees, flower petals, building overhangs, roofs, bridge towers, noses, hair, coats. hold your open hand to the rain and feel the cool wetness flow from palm through clefts between fingers. you can't hold it, the rain. it always escapes. it falls to the earth where it wanted to be all along. it is only passing through, you, me, the trees, the buildings, the cars, on its way from the water-weighted clouds to the welcoming soil. rain. driving on a winding road in a small car, searching for a different place to be, something new, something otherworldly only because you've never experienced it before. there is more to this life than sun and light. there is rain, life-affirming rain, an enveloping blanket that holds you close and only lets you go when it is no more.