I Hate the Rain

i hate rain,
the sound of leaves being hit
all at once
like a constant tide
crashing in cacophony.

the annoying white noise
in the black night
vexes me,
and i find it frustratingly odd
how the grey cement
is a darker shade of grey
when rain drives by.

and how strange our sunrays look,
dressed in an admittedly becoming
frock of clouds.

i tolerate
the feeling of droplets on my skin,
like a soothing massage for which
i did not ask,
and i walk uncaringly
with my hair wet
but only because
my hair is easier to manage
damp than dry.

the beautiful autumn leaves,
now soaked with nature's tears
can't be crumpled,
and i so enjoy crumpling them,
even as i enjoy their beauty
strewn across my path
like the Earth's own stars
in endless constellations.

falling leaves are shooting stars
waiting to be wished,
so i wish upon a falling leaf,
who joins its brothers on the ground,
and in my wishing, i believe,
a quiet solace i have found.

the drizzle turns into
an endless stampede of tiny horses
rushing onto the floor and trees,
and upwards i look,
soaking it all in.

my wish for clarity
has been answered.

and at night,
with my window open,
the rain reminds me of the ocean,
with the leaves a-pitterpatter
in quiet, calming tidal breaking,
but that beach and surf surrounds me
and for once i am part of nature's nature.

and
i suppose,
i may love my rain after all.