Rain Babble

Often the rain has something to say to me, but this rainy day it is hyperactively neurotic. Each of my shoes are waterlogged by a squelching sky-fall. Then again there is the soggy dribble when the flood falters and it plugs the dripping air only to burst out in hysterical torrents. It is not mute, it mutters and sprays wet words; a babble of bellicose blather. I am drenched in my own sweat, as weepy warm sweepings wash over me. I was hoping that the last spatter and squall of the day would have something to say but it only seemed to hint at: 'Coming back again."