Summer Rain

There is something mysterious about a soft summer rain.
Something romantic.
Spiritual.
Something that stirs my very soul.

There is a thickness to the very air...the scent of coming rain.
The clouds break suddenly and my heart thrills at the torrent of falling water.
The initial rush subsides into a steady, straight-falling shower.
My excitement also mellows into introspection.
I revel in the cool wetness on the naked soles of my feet.
The soft tingle on my upturned face fills me with peace.
The muted resonance of each droplet ending it's journey on the earth...the trees...my shoulders is all I can hear.
The clouds cover the visible world like a heavy fleece blanket...only in the far horizon can I see the edge, shining like gold in the light of a hidden sun.

There is poetry in my soul as I stand there...wholey lost to just being.
Absorbing every drop as if I was the earth itself.
Knowing nothing my senses do not tell me, my feeling is one of primitiveness and profundity and purity.
The rain speaks to me of something above this world. Something clean.
A new beginning?
Refreshment? Grace?
God.

I could stay like this forever.
Reflective.
Peaceful.
Awakened.
Connecting with something beyond me...something within me.
The heat of the day and the pressing cares of life are cooled and soothed.

But the drops come farther apart now.
The cadence is slowing and the clouds are dissipating swiftly, exposing more and more of the evening sky.
I resign myself to the end, though I wish it would continue.

I must resume my practical roles of mother...wife...friend, and bid adieu to the philosopher and poet.

At least until the next soft summer rain.