The hiss of the constant rain,
The patter of raindrops
against the glass.
Windows, tiny windows of clear water
shatter as they hit the ground.
The air becomes water
and the water, air.
I stand, I breathe
and the skies open.
Water washes away the withered spring;
rivers on the road
rivulets on the window
and the trees raise their branches
and give their thanks to the rain.
Very good imagery, Chris! Nice!
Thanks very much, Sharon. I appreciate that.
You are welcome, Chris!