Rain

What is it about rainy days that speaks to me so? I kept getting distracted today by the rain and wind rattling the windows of my office. A gust of wind would test the strength of glass, and I would glance up and become transfixed by the patterns of rain herded by wind, the trickle-spatter-thump of raindrops on the glass, the final brown leaves being stripped from trees by the grasping wind. Minutes later I would rouse my self from my reverie and try to concentrate on work again… but the wind and rain call to me…

I went outside in my lunch break to be in the weather… the whisper and howl of the wind, the susurration of tyres on slick roads, the gurgling of rivers in the gutters, the trickle of rain drops over my head and down my neck… these sounds and feelings carry with them a strange kind of silence and peace… in the middle of the rain, in the middle of traffic, in the middle of people scurrying hurrying to be inside, out of the cold, out of the wet, I walk slowly with my face to the rain and float to the sounds of a city awash…

There’s just something about a rainy day that touches the quiet part of my soul.