Monday, April 18, 2011

spinning rain.

Rain carries with it tiny energy, all held together in perfectly clean shape until meeting the earth. Then the spinning stops, one drop at a time.
My favorite kind of rain is furious and intentional, and drives holes into the soil, and makes so much noise on the windshield that nothing else can be heard. It comes down so fast that make-shift umbrellas are worthless, and shoes get soaked in an instant. When it rains that hard, people stop what they are doing. They stand up. Move to the window, and watch. And a crazy few, join the spinning, and step outside to get drenched.

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