PLUVIOPHILE

PLUVIOPHILE

I love to watch the rain drops

falling in dynamic pattern,

marching down in continuous   motion.

Like a powerful army, forming little oceans

I love that they fall so evenly on us all

washing each and every one ,

reaching the deepest of  places that need to be touched.

standing right beneath ,

as my garments stick to my skin,

with no choice of my own,

I feel the water from my head,

to my toes flow.

whilst I learn,

that somethings are  beyond my control

and the rain,is one of them.

I love the scent,

and all that is represents.

Looking down , at the rivers below,

flowing away ,

away with all my worries and pain.

I love the rain,

and the hope that it brings

hope arising , with each tug of the wind 

I don't know 

what is more joyful to a pluviophile ;

the fact that rain comes that things may grow ,

or just watching the transition in the sky.

I love the rain,

my love , well earned ,

be it a promise or a threat,

on its fall i can depend.

and every start with an unexpected end.

what is more exciting ,

than the angry shout of thunder?

awakening alike,

 both child and mother,

and the lightening,

peeping through shut doors and window curtains .

what is more hopeful?

for the withered  flowers and naked trees,

than the showers of spring,

promises of  seeds and  leaves.

what could be better,

than the life of a pluviophile

living  with  no suprise , 

accepting every threat of storm,

sensing its arrival,

no matter its disguise.

Just knowing in your heart,

what is to come;

the pleasure of green pasture,

the petrichor,
 of fertile land,

the joy of harvest,

all bundled in a simple privilege,

to just be young, 

get wet, and  run

as though, 

the harmless droplets were toxic.

then try to create warmth,

every attempt with a different tactic.

There is so much more to the rain,

than just water,

dripping idly from the sky

so much more than just condensed vapor.

For In a time of hunger and thirst

we look to the sky,

hopeful for rain to wash away the curse.

Along with the rain,

comes rainbows.

at the end of which lies,

the pot of gold.

then there is that unadulterated beauty

that overtakes the sky,

as the the last drops flow,

along with the trash the streets hold,

and the foot marks on the sand .

leaving all things new,

all slates clean.'

helping us let go of sins,

flowing in the little rivers,

swimming through the gutters.

and as the sun finds its way back,

we find courage to follow new paths.

So while you see a storm,

I see an opportunity,

to appreciate  the fresh scent of roses
and give thanks for each door that closes.

Some may think me naive,

to choose sight in this light,

but its what i believe,

and that's how it works,

in my own little universe,

the peculiar style, 

of a pluviophile.

hey guys,

Through this little piece , I hope to remind someone , that storms WILL come and they will go, as sure as there is a sky, the sun will always shine. so enjoy the beauty in the process, get wet, play and learn. because the lessons you learn along the way are priceless.

I would love to hear from you, read your reviews, comments, answer questions,share your experiences.

 With all my love,

PAMELA.