Rain.
It is so pure, so easy.
It is motivated through its cycle and beautiful when it hits slippery puddles on the ground below, forming multiple crystals that shatter everywhere.
Rain is simple.
It falls through the thick, tense air and lands on thirsty earth.
Rain is clean.
It slides gracefully down the faces of children, and down rainbow colored umbrellas.
It swishes between wind shield wipers of cars transporting rushing people, and between the innocent lips of a young boy and girl kissing in the rain.
Rain is generous.
It falls on abandoned ground, where only tiny critters and hungry birds see its beauty.
It never misses anything, or leaves something unquenched.
Rain is predictable in all its perfection.
It always stops.
It always returns.
Rain.
