Slow the Rain

Slow the rain.

Let it be collected in my hands to escape if it wishes. Let it sink through my fingers and trip down my arm. Let it drip off of my elbow. Let me feel it.

Let me see it on a window pane, where I can find my reflection [if upside down] somewhere within the sanctuary of each. I'm told that there is little to no sound underwater. Let me go there to think.

Blue skies are calling.Blue skies are coming. But, I love the rain most.