This afternoon, I sat by the glass panel in a cafe, in the heart of our CBD area, sipping hot coffee while staring out the glass. Slivers of silver needles were plunging to the grounds, as though stabbing it in rhythmic pleasure. The river was swollen with rain water, giving it heightened beauty that the dry season could never attain. The scene was tranquil, almost mesmerizing, and I was momentarily transfixed.
I love the rain. I may rant whenever it rains and foils my plans when I am outdoors, because even when one drives or has transport, there are still certain locations that offer no shelter, and its inevitable to get drenched. Being drenched means a whole load of inconvenience and discomfort, not to mention effecting an unruly wet look and enduring the risks of falling sick.
But ultimately, I love everything about the rain.
There are so many rain songs that made it into my Favorites list:
Roxette's "Queen of Rain"
Gazebo's "Chopin" (the line 'rainy days, never say goodbye')
Garbage's "I'm Only Happy When it Rains"
Billie Myers' "Kiss the Rain"
Peabo Bryson's "Can You Stop the Rain"
Aurora "The Day it Rained Forever"
The list is not exhaustive.
Senses of The Rain
Rain is beautiful and serene, I love everything about it.
I love the metallic smell before and after rain, it is heady, almost like a drug that I cannot help but need to keep taking deep breaths to sniff it all in. This is the best perfume Mother Nature ever came up with, in my opinion.
I love the sight of rain - whether it dances when swayed by the passing gusts of wind, whether it falls steadily to the grounds like soldiers landing on a mission, or whether it slants to the side in a graceful descent. I love how it soothes me and makes everything else fades away.
I love it especially when I am indoors and I stare down at the heavily falling rain cast in eerie glow by orange streetlamps. It is almost haunting, this beauty - and it made me feel like I've been transported back in time, watching the falling rain from a citadel tower, somehow. Yes, rain makes me feel. It warms and chills me at its discretion, but either way its pleasurable.
I love touching the rain when I am outdoors, having it caress every contour of my body and skin like an intimate lover. I love how its cold palms warms me inside, and makes me feel utterly cleansed after a walk in the rain. I love how it masks my tears and nobly takes the blame for smudged mascara.
I love the sound of the rain, pitter-pattering on the hard gravel grounds in rhythms that no musical instruments could imitate. I love how its simple descent from heavens could form so many different melodies, depending on the frequency, weightage and the materials it falls upon. I love listening to it whilst lost in thoughts because it grounds me.
Most of all, I love how the rain cradles my mind and inputs the most sensual, ethereal thoughts in my mind. Whenever it rains, enjoyment seeps in, especially when I am indoors. I can find perfect excuses to indulge in hot, sinful beverages, snuggle under the covers tightly or simply write - poetry or novels alike. Yes, the rain inspires me alot.
But, like Monkshood or Poison Ivy, the rain is not perfect in its perfection. Its venom lay in the memories it sometimes conjures..... memories of the past that were created in the rain, and will never fade in the presence of the rain.
Rain, oh rain... I shall leave you with a short stanza by Robert Frost -
"The rain to the wind said,
You push and I'll pelt.
They so smote the garden bed
That the flowers actually knelt,
And lay lodged--though not dead.
I know how the flowers felt."
No part of this may be republished without the writer's permission. Copyright © Thearcticstar. All rights reserved.
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