The rain beats down hard on the wet green leaves and polishes the rocks and pebbles on the road with its constant falling stream from the blackness of the sky in the dark, dark night. The raindrops bring cold, its crisp, ozone smell cleansing the air.
The dirt soaks, barely noticing what has happened to it a countless number of times since the dawn of time itself,
and the pavement, awkwardly but no longer so uneasily as before, when it had first been laid down and hardened, accepts the soft battering once again.
The birds hide in their nests, not desiring to moisten their nimble wings, and the animals scurry to shelter, out of the way of the streetlights that send piercing, concentrated rays that deflect off of the glistening rocks and cast upon them a glossy sheen.
The moon observes serenely, behind its veil of nearly lightless mist and hangs in awe of the wonder of the rainstorm’s splendor, the kind that it knows it possess, in its own taciturn way.
Created: Sep 06, 2010Document Media