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First of the Spring Rain (standard:non fiction, 188 words)
Author: SareAdded: Apr 16 2002Views/Reads: 2138/1Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Looking out the window instead of writing an exam...
 



The first of the spring rain.  More than the first snow of winter or the
first tumbling leaf of autumn; more even than the first lodged grains 
of sand, the spring rain is a sign, a clue to those who haven't yet 
given in to the new season.  It pounds relentlessly on rooftops and 
windows; it coaxes the last vestiges of snow and ice into their 
springtime sacrifice; it delivers waking blows to the trees and the 
earth.  The spring rain wakes me from restless sleep and thrills me; 
attempts to entice me out into its reach.  I stand at the window with 
the ghost of my lover's arms wrapped around me, and inhale the fresh, 
unmistakable scent of life.  I am a child of the springtime, who 
delights in the early daffodils, the middle lilacs, the late roses.  I 
walk through puddles and not around them; lower my umbrella and turn my 
face to the rain; look over the tops of my sunglasses to see the sun 
glimmer off of unsuspecting objects.  Spring will always be the most 
beautiful time, and that first rain, reason to smile.


   


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