why I romanticize the rain

Rainy days let us all
off the hook, somewhat. A day off
from being out and productive.
Sweet permission
to spend a day reading,
or watching a movie. I love
to go out and see

a movie on a rainy day,
brave the rain to find myself
warm and dry in a big theater,
watching the flickers - some film
I might not have seen, without
the excuse rain so generously
provides. Sometimes

the theater’s surprisingly full.
Fellow raingoers. For those of us

who kind of like
being out in the rain,
it’s a fellowship

of everyone we meet
who isn’t hurrying, huddling
into themselves warding the weather
off with flapping umbrellas, cursing
outwardly at each gust, inwardly
at each drop that gets through. Glowering

at their suddenly discovered-unsuitable
footgear choice, soaked to the socks!

We who don’t seem to mind at all
recognize each other, out there unbothered
by the softness of the weather. A shared smile,
maybe, as we pass. Secretly relishing it all.
Some of our umbrellas are ill-positioned,
underused - mostly for show. We all love
a shower, don’t we? Well what could be wrong
with a rainshower? It’s cleaner water
than from the pipes, or sure seems like.

Rain renews the world. The smell
of a sunny day after rains is exquisite
and deep, sharp with wet, slowly giving itself
to the air and sunlight in evaporation.

Something is released in it, something
left behind. To be out in the middle of
that renewal while it’s happening
is like partaking in a ceremony.

Inside, the sound of the rain on wall,
window and roof is like a security blanket
drawn over the whole house. Warm and safe.

Home and dry.

The whole world has become a buffer, with this
one spot of homely-bright hospitable volume
carved from it.

Even those who like or don’t mind
being caught out in the rain tend to love
being home while the rain does its work
outside. Or at night,
day done - to fall asleep
to that surround sound.
Lovely.

Whereas those who can’t stand
the rain sit in and grumble at it! They don’t
seem to appreciate their place of reprieve, so much
as begrudge being stuck in. Or worse: called by necessity,

having to *go out in it.*

Being out with someone on a rainy day
is a strange testament to your togetherness.
The elements are just backdrop, even as they

fall on you both.
A shared umbrella,
cheerfully inadequate
for somebody. Taking turns
bearing the brunt of the drops,
shifting considerately - no,
let my clothes be dappled, your
outfit’s cuter! Nobody says

these things out loud,
it’s unspoken. So much

is unspoken.

The rain is more than half
the voice you need. It supplies
the subtext. We planned this outing,
and neither of us has/had the sense
to cancel it on account of rain! To either of us,

being here means more than weather.
And we love this weather, don't we - shh!
We relish the uncomprehending glances
of those caught out in it, imagining
what fools we must be in their eyes. Nonsense,
they’ve got their own concerns. Damn rain!

Being stuck in at home with someone
on a rainy day is all the closeness
and excuse you need to stay.

Sometimes we feel a bit guilty
about staying in, you know? Banners
of sunshine unfurling over the whole world!
Calling you: come out, come out! Enjoy me! I am the day!

You’d have to be ingrates not to fuss yourselves
into sunny-day clothes and rush forth adventuring. The rain says,

Shhh. You don’t have to do any of that,
if you don’t want to. You don’t need an excuse
today to huddle secure where you are,
while the whole world calls its sights and sounds
and wonders. You’ve got me! I will hush all the calls,
and you shall do as you please
with the pause.

Now me, sometimes I like to go forth
adventuring anyway. Right out into the rain!
The world’s very different in the rain, and sometimes
I like to see what’s going on differently. Spot the birds
and animals - some still bopping about! Others,
one imagines, cursing and grumbling. Oh,
they enjoy it! They know what it means

- as do the people, threading their ways
through the drops. It’s a different sort
of people out in the weather. But staying in
is nice, too.

That’s why I romanticize the rain. Or maybe
I should say, that’s how. I could go on, too.
As long as the rain goes on.