Rain, it doesn't always pitter patter
Or dust the skin of a passerby with mist-like
morning dew
It doesn't always fall softly, or vertically
The army of droplets corrals
Hears the pep talk from the clouds: "this is it! this is our chance!"
Rain drops use the atmosphere's indecisive hovering
Between the wintery minuses and spring-like pluses
To launch its loudest attack
Ice bullets, frozen swords, sleet-covered grenades
Assault the noses of the unexpecting
The fingers of the hands that desperately jiggle keys in locks
Sideways attacks on windowpanes that crack loudly through the night
And coat all surfaces in black, icy slick
Then as quickly as it began
The atmosphere yawns, stretches and shudders
relaxes into sleep
Changing the march of the temperature
Up, up, into a gentle, pitter-pattering soft blanket of rain
The world's iced candy coating melts away
Oozes, slinking from windows
Drips and dribbles from roadways
Sliding quietly into nearby sewers or gently vibrating puddles
Embarrassed by its loss of the battle
But dreaming of its next chance to fight
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