When the Rain Comes

The Rain Comes
by Greg Wendland

The smell on the wind
like a freshness blowing in.
The trees whipping their high branches
embracing the moment of expectation

The grass rustles,
blades moving ever slightly
invisible faces smiling at
their coming divination

Umbrellas fly open,
with the swiftness of
unbothered people
continuing on their way
as though the change could not affect them

The sidewalk warm
underneath bare feet
granules of granite
massaging my weary soles

I look up at the clouds
moving swiftly in,
the heralds trumpeting
an entrance of importance

The sun hides
not in fear
respect felt in the
continued warmth

And it comes…….

It falls with grace,
petaling objects in its path
The warm embrace of it’s wetness
and cleansing

I feel renewed,
my cares washed away
I see them running
those who do not understand

I stay
I live
I breathe
I love the rain
I want to dance here with you

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