The relentless patter of rain endlessly pounded on the rooftops, across the windows and against the walls of the town. Each mother and wife, husband and father, child and sibling attempted to sleep. Some could hide away from their natural audible senses, while others could not. Some watched the waterfall stream down from the heavens, awed and at peace, while others tossed and turned in minutes that lasted hours. The restless found it odd, yet naturally expected, for time to slow in cases like these. It was unfortunate, for they had long days in store for them, and little sleep to hold up such mountains of work. The rain had other thoughts about itself. Or perhaps it didn't? Do thoughts think of themselves? A question unlikely to be answered. Nevertheless, we could watch the rain filter through the dry dirt, filling up the soil like some sort of water to a sponge. The trees and plants drank from this replenishment, and showed their favor for the rain with the beginnings of new leaves. Spring was warming up and trickling in. What more was there to say? Two worlds, intertwined and both equally created by the minds of man.
Great! i love it. i especially like the part that talks about the rain having thoughts. really cool way to put it. love the title as well. its really great
