There's something about rain that makes me wax poetic. Or at least think more than usual.

A familiar place. A frequently visited place. It is different. But not in a bad way. It's merely new, that's all.

The air is cool and the afternoon is begging me to slow down and live for a moment. So I sit. I pause. I recall. I wonder. And it doesn't overwhelm me today.

The rain begins right on cue. It knows what I'm thinking. After refelction, I understand what it is saying.

Some kinds of rain are only good for anger. Others accompany mourning. Some come bringing waves of nostalgia. Another kind embodies melancholy. But not today. Today, the rain sings renewal.