The Rain

It begins like most storms, the rumbling in the distance, and lightning flashing against the night sky. Then the thunder grows closer, the wind picks up and the trees seemed to dance to the rhythm of the storm. Before the clouds release their fury, the scent of rain is on the breeze. It is clean and cool. It refreshes even before the first drop hits the ground. I stand there waiting for it to come. I feel the ground tremble and suddenly the clouds give in and fulfill its threat. It rains hard tonight. Not the small sprinkle as before but hard and angry. The ground becomes saturated very fast and puddles soon appear. It comes down in sheets, passionate sheets. The music of the rain fills the night. The wind plays with the rain, it shakes the rain; pushing it beyond the safe shelters. In this storm everything gets wet. No umbrella offers cover from this rain. This is a rain for the bones. This is a rain for a hot cup of tea and really good read. This is my kind of rain.