General

The soul of heaven arrives in generous water pellets; in this heavy downpour we are cleaned and humbled, linked by the steady sky-given stream to our mother Earth.

General

There is a quality of rain that opens the soul heavenward, for it speaks upon the skin the same as the hand of a loving protector.

General

The rain has become a living fabric, something I can reach my hand through and let my fingers play in. It reminds me of being in a car with the window open, my hand surfing the fast moving air. I guess it's when we come closer to experiencing the world as fish do.

General

Water washes over my skin so strongly that it feels as if I am in the flow of a river rather than a rain shower, one that leaves me standing yet lets me know that it is here to stay for a while. And so the only thing to do is to keep walking, to accept it as easily as the air I am breathing, to see it run over the earth beneath my soft soles.

General

The downpour was so heavy that to be caught unawares meant being drenched to the skin. Each drop was as large as a cartoon tear and they fell like gravity had been turned up a notch. Every person able to run picked up their pace holding futile hands skyward to fend off the worst and the world was cast into more sombre tones.

General

After so much summer heat the heavens broke to release a torrent of rain. The parched soil wicked it away to the distant water table below, the only puddles forming on the impervious tarmac sidewalk. It was a gift to the dehydrated flora and the animals who grieved over the dry stream beds. Tommy held his hand to the cool window pane, watching his breath condense around his outstretched fingers. Fall had arrived at last.