Rain

I

The first rains wash us in infancy,

A sort of natural Baptism.

They help us germinate, establish our roots,

Break through the soil and

Look up at the Sun.

We continue to grow, and play in the puddles the rain makes until it’s time to go back inside.

II

The second rains come with some turbulence.

In come winds of Change and Confusion and find that rain

Can be cold.

Rain takes on a different quality

We start to notice new dimensions, new facets in each drop, each storm

Kind of like us.

III

The third rains bring a new sense of identity

And we see the world with a newfound clarity

Storms are merely the disturbance of the normal conditions of the atmosphere—

The trembling drops that accompany the butterflies in our stomachs like a sort of ballet—

Soft, graceful, sweet.

But leaping, soaring, spiraling, and then—

Cloudburst.

IV

The fourth rains,

We don’t have time for.

Aggravating,

Insulting in the way they seem to appear right when you need to get somewhere, almost as if the sky takes time out of its schedule

To ruin ours.

Adam’s ale?

If it was up to us, we’d empty the damned thing

Right into the drain, for all it’s worth.

Yet,

In those rare moments alone,

Nothing but the marauding thoughts in our heads,

We find that Adam’s ale can be absolving:

Healing old wounds,

Bringing back life to the parts of us that we believed dead.

Catharsis.

V

In the fifth rains we find gratitude,

And an appreciation for the magnificence of life

That we always  wished we’d had when we were younger—

Because we haven’t got many rains left.

We learn to dance and jump in the puddles again

Reveling in the pseudo waves you create in those makeshift brines

Because it’s okay to get your feet wet sometimes.