And why, might you ask? How should this offering be received? I guess that depends upon your perspective. I imagine that most people have been inculcated into the “rain is bad” thought train because of nursery songs and rhymes like “ It’s raining, it’s pouring the old man is snoring” and “rain rain, go away, come again another day.” A quick search of the Poetry Foundation yields 1,070 poems about rain, a majority of them waxing poetic (pun intended) on the negative aspects of rain.
I am on the “I love the rain" thought train.
And thankfully so are others, like Langston Hughes.
April Rain Song
Let the rain kiss you.
The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk.
And I love the rain.
Rain creates nature’s best playground toy. I have many memories of my children running outside in rain storms to stomp in the puddles and generally run around getting soaking wet. In fact, if the weather permitted, bathing suits were donned and out they went! I have what I imagine is a fairly universal picture of my daughter in her yellow rain boots, her yellow slicker with the hood up and an umbrella running around in the small pond-sized puddle that would form during each rainstorm at the bottom of the driveway. So for those times, this particular memory and the ones to come. An ode to rain:
Rain drops from the sky
leave behind puddles that now
reflect its glory.
And thankfully so are others, like Langston Hughes.
April Rain Song
~~by Langston Hughes
Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops.
Let the rain sing you a lullaby.
The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk.
The rain makes running pools in the gutter.
The rain plays a little sleep-song on our roof at night—
And I love the rain.
Rain creates nature’s best playground toy. I have many memories of my children running outside in rain storms to stomp in the puddles and generally run around getting soaking wet. In fact, if the weather permitted, bathing suits were donned and out they went! I have what I imagine is a fairly universal picture of my daughter in her yellow rain boots, her yellow slicker with the hood up and an umbrella running around in the small pond-sized puddle that would form during each rainstorm at the bottom of the driveway. So for those times, this particular memory and the ones to come. An ode to rain:
Puddles left by rain
are my playground inviting
me to jump right in
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