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1 " Hating the RainShe hates the ever-falling winter rain,the gray and endless humiditythat bites to the bone and stingseven after the hot bath and stiffstruggle into bed and under the quilts,but the winter ferns, and the way they wave in a slight breeze as though happy like grandmother’s lace curtainscan’t be abandoned or lived without.She hates the endless drippinglike a clock ticking away lifeand the heavy fog that swallows lightas though life itself were vanishing,but the tree frogs with their songsand their clinging to matching green like family holding togetherstitch her thoughts back to July picnics.She hates her complaining voicethat discourages her children’s callsand encourages their urgings that shemove, maybe to Florida citrus sun,but gray day softness steeps herpatience and quiets her fear of lossinto something like gratitudeclinging like green to summer mossand this she knows: she loves the rain. "
― Marian Blue , How Many Words for Rain
