A
Still
Quiet
Silence
Air growing thicker
Denser, colder pressure
Builds stronger anticipation
The first drops come falling, splat
On my window faster and faster still
The torrent of water comes, pitter patter
Water collects like tired soldiers laying to rest
I open my window to smell the fresh, fertile water
And feel a cold, wet splash on my palm as I reach out
The chill of the air rushes against my skin chilling me
I close my window quickly to avoid the weather
But not before a small puddle forms
Cold and wet on my windowsill
The beating of the rain
never ceases
plunk