When the drops were voluptuous, they lit the spaces between them.
Splattering, hissing, and splashing.
When the drops were dim, they evoked nostalgia.
Of the deeply lingering kind, quiet, gentle.
When the drops drowned them in longing, they melted in ease.
Preening and pruning.
When the drops cut through them with merciless splendour, they quacked
Like wet geese.
When the drops rained down on them, they sought shelter
And found it in each other’s ever-widening arms.
Rain, come again, wet us all
And leave your marks where life begins.