First rain

It starts slowly at first,
the sky darkens,
the trees begin to squirm, slowly becoming ocean waves in the wind
  It twists and turns
  it shreds leafs into mist and breaks branches by the root.

It’s powerful,
the first rain.
It pounds on roofs and doors, letting itself in wherever it can
manifesting its form slowly, through leaking roofs and soggy walls.
It submerges roads and collapses hillsides
it bounces off of the streets sticky residues
it flips cars
and pulls toxic colored rainbows from the ground

But, it’s also beautiful.
The rain hits the earth and trees, saturating the air with vibrant colors and smells,
reminding you of childhood haunts and memories.
  the giantized world seen through eyes below your waist level
   where rain washed in new planets to explore,        where puddles were lakes you dispersed with the stomp of a rubber boot.
   and curbside rivers are forded with caution.
Now though, teas, blankets, and books seem more fitting for the time
the electric air sets you a world apart from your troubles
and sets you down inside a collective feeling of warmth and safety

Outside though, in the rain, you feel it all.
It slams its fists into your head and pushes you down with its gravity,
It simmers an unconscious warmth, under your umbrellas and coats, inside,
  away from, but still  
  connected to your cold skin and wet, wrinkled hands