We Stare at the Rain

We stare at the rain. It transfixes us. We should be working but instead we sit, enchanted by the miracle of water falling from the sky.

We watch random rivulets trace an unsure path down the smooth glass. We marvel as a spout of water arcs triumphantly from the red tiled roof onto a patch of brown earth, favouring the scorched land with the gift of life. The flacid leaves on the orchid trees seem to open before our eyes, uncurling to embrace the return of their long lost friend.

The melodic patter of heavy raindrops on the broad, burnt leaves of the peace lily outside the front door adds a satsfying soundtrack to the gloriously glistening scene. From his hiding place amidst the birds of paradise plants, a tiny frog with a big voice croaks his approval from a parched throat. He’s joined by a farmer in a nearby field who whoops manically with a joy that’s flavoured by relief.

We stare at the rain and it makes us smile.

Welcome back. You’ve been gone far too long.