I like rain. In earlier, nuttier days a summer downpour was an opportunity to run around and get muddy and get soaked with friends. Sliding down grassy, goopy hills was truly life's greatest joy...until the adrenalin wore off and the clean-up began.
It cleans up the neighborhood. It seems to freshen the air. (Did you know that all of Kings County has an F in particle pollution? It's mainly due to cars. Go congestion pricing!) It makes the grass practically glow.
I don't really mind walking in the rain. I hate using an umbrella. Especially when it's warmer weather, I just don't see much reason to use one. (Don't worry. I still make sure to cover the child!) I don't usually wear white tops, and I guess I just picture myself in a film with the rain pouring down. You know something incredibly romantic or dramatic will happen when someone is walking and smiling in the rain. The reality is more drowned rat than romantic lead, but I don't have to see what I look like, you do!
So, here is a poetic offering that deals with rain, although it's not about enjoying it, really. It's by Agha Shahid Ali. He also has a poem from the wolf's point-of-view in Little Red Riding Hood. I always like those types of poems. This rain focussed poem is called "Even the Rain."
from "Even the Rain"
Drought was over. Where was I? Drinks were on the house.
For mixers, my love, you'd poured--what?--even the rain.
Of this pear-shaped orange's perfumed twist, I will say:
Extract Vermouth from the bergamot, even the rain.
How did the Enemy love you--with earth? air? and fire?
He held just one thing back till he got even: the rain.
This is God's site for a new house of executions?
You swear by the Bible, Despot, even the rain?
After the bones--those flowers--this was found in the urn:
The lost river, ashes from the ghat, even the rain.
What was I to prophesy if not the end of the world?
A salt pillar for the lonely lot, even the rain.