|First of the Spring Rain (standard:non fiction, 188 words)|
|Author: Sare||Added: Apr 16 2002||Views/Reads: 2138/1||Story 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. Tweet
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