• What would it be like,
    To have the gentle fists of rain,
    Falling against the earth like marbles,
    Massage my mind?

    What if the wind slanted those marbles’ paths?
    Wouldn’t those gentle fists then become arrows,
    And pierce my clothing with warmth,
    Until I’m soaked all the way through?

    I wonder what would happen, standing under a tree instead.
    Then I would catch the sprinklets left,
    From those gentle fists.
    The sprinklets that mystify the eyes.

    And what about the light drops,
    That bring the first smell of rain’s scent?
    The fingers of those gentle fists would arouse my senses,
    To ready me for the phenomenon to come.

    I can feel it coming,
    Rushing to rescue me from reality.
    I can smell the scent of the rains mighty strength.
    I can hear the mist starting off on its amazing journey.

    The powerful winds that can make me swoon.
    I can close my eyes,
    And follow my senses’ arousal,
    As I open my arms in welcome to those gentle fists.

    The arms that connect the gentle fists,
    To the ever so gentle sky,
    Slowly embrace me,
    As the phenomenon passes me by.