The last rain of winter

Rain drops run rivulets

Down the iron

Along bark

They run and they run until they simply run out

Soak in and stop

Lying in bed I listen to them scatter and thrum


How it would feel

To be a raindrop running

Joining and splitting, becoming greater, smaller

Turning into a puddle, forming a drip that drops

Then as the sun comes up

Gently steaming

Merging with the breeze and being carried away with such ease

That I forget what it was ever like

To freeze

*photo courtesy Geetanjal Khana Unsplash

8 thoughts on “The last rain of winter

  1. Beautifully written, Kate. I could visualise this so perfectly by your vivid description, and almost felt like I was the raindrop Thanks for sharing … Ellie xx 🦒😘

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