There is a spare beauty in gray mist
floating and rising from the valley floor,
Droplets on the window panes,
the quiet whishing of rain on the trees.

Melancholy, some say.
But it teaches patience
and the understanding that we can’t always have our own way.

We are not in control of much,
though we like to plan and wear the foreman’s white hat.

Urbanization has meant misunderstanding of rainy days.
For city dwellers
rain brings spoiled plans, ruined picnics, traffic snarls.

Farmers, gardeners,
And those living in drought
know.

The earth thirsts for rain,
And the water feeds and
fertilizes and
fills and
renews.

Inside, I ponder the choices.
Organize drawers, Write, Read, Sew, Bake bread, Take a nap?

Be productive,
Or not.
Such Luxury.

And the world looks so much sweeter when the sun breaks through.