rain is rain is rain, until it makes you push aside the glass panels and look out into the darkness.
rain is rain is rain, until it makes you stretch out your hands into the stillness of the quiet night, the lonely romance of the solitary lamp-posts.
rain is rain is the scent of coolness on the wind. yes, temperature becomes a smell in times like tonight, a little teaser on the tip of your nose, leaving little air-kisses of almost-cold. like the promise of love, unspoken.
rain makes you fall in love with it. rain makes you love the night, the respite it brings after a day of such muggy heat that you felt compelled to shower thrice. rain is-- tonight's rain, at least-- is a flirt; thunder comes in trickles of ominous sound, the wind comes in little eddies that don't head straight for your hair but wind around your feet brightly instead, like hopeful cats looking for a friendly foot to snuggle.
i cannot begin to tell you how much i love tonight. how much i love the night.
in the distance there comes intermittent sounds of perhaps-rain. of perhaps-rustling of yearning trees waiting for the slant-wise delineation of lines that would sparkle in sunlight but only glint with potential now. the sky lights up at times with lightning; at times it just brightens a little, in tandem with that low growl.
and silly as it sounds there is a thrill of the forbidden running in my veins. we've always been told to shut the windows, shut them, shut them against the rain. tonight i throw all of them open; my room is suddenly the watchpost of the four winds.
such magic, and wonder, and oh-this-night-is-love.
the rain is coming. i think it is.
storm rising