Mizzle

I love the rain.

I step with the same feet yet light-footed, I feel.
My eyes the same as yesterday, today everything seems brighter?
My heart beats a little faster but, I am sure it is the same.
What is happening to me?
I don’t mind, nor do I seek to blame I, wonder about this change in my veins, the rush of life pulsating, same blood, same body.
Maybe it is the rain.

Stubbornly drought walking has left a soul scorched brittle breaking like the crust of forgotten baking bread.
Have we baked too long?
Curiously, we stay, warm we stay, fresh.
Difficult to see, for in the same skin, same shoe, foot, and soul
Different we reflect
Maybe it is the rain.

Change, only noticed after it has happened.
like these lightfooted steps from the same feet
the vision from old eyes
it is the rain within the rain
a heart of mizzling changes, not the day
but a life.

I love the rain.
It has been an unnoticed storm in our hearts
consistent precipitation of life
and now how alive have we become
I love the rain.

I love the rain.

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