After The Rain...
I love it when it rains. The raindrops free falling, merging with each other as the clouds purge them with gusto, regaining identity as they splatter against the window, yet only to lose it again as they form rivulets and flow down the glass. I love it when it rains without thunder and without the ominous darkness in the sky. But what I love most comes after the rain stops and the clouds break; it is the breeze that carries the scent of the rain. I close my eyes and fill my lungs with her and then I hold my breath. I feel the caress of her cool skin, the kiss of her moist lips, and I let visions come to my mind. I don't know when I formed this mental connection; whether such a breeze was blowing when someone first described paradise to me, or whether this breeze really does awaken something mostly lost to me, but somehow it brings to me the purest visions of harmony. I go to a world with lush hills and blue skies, and of course with this mellifluous breeze at its merriest. And in t...