The Sound of the Falling Rain

 

I welcomed it

in the wee hour of

the morning. 

I must be in a 

good mood.

I did not see it as a metaphor

for tears washing

away pain. 

Instead it evoked 

childhood memories.

Not specific visions.

Just that feeling

I got then in the

Philippines.

Of rain pelting

on the galvanized

iron roof.

I did not see the

floods it had brought

Instead just my

expectations that

I could play while

it showed off how

strong it was.

The force of it as it

fell on my shivering

skin.

Does ones mood dictate

everything?

I am not overthinking

it. Whatever. 

I hear the joy of sunshine

in the falling rain.

One word. Grateful.