Rain is song, each drop ‒ a note,
playing the keyboard of memory,
come listen as it fortes to torrential,
then softens to relief.
But do not stay in the past ‒
look out the window, watch and hear its musicality.
See it washing the parked cars in front of the house,
puddling up on the sidewalk, splashing as it hits. Watch
its cleansing, forgiving nature ‒ how it nurses the ground,
bringing green to the grass, leaves to the trees.
Hear it sing. Sing with it. Feel new.
Contemplate its culmination saturating this countryside.
Hear its song come down all over the world.
Listen while its end beat fades out
on the windowpane.
Take one last look ‒
and see its bow
arching to the ends of the earth,
its praise.