The Art of Rain: a Windowpane Perspective

Through crisscrossed muntin, patterns, and panes of clear glass, the world outside is painting itself gray, a wet mess of monochrome. Muted cars speed by, reflecting a leaden sky. Their moans and groans wash over every rooftop, passing by. Nature's call is heard as rain, the plate glass her melodic conductor. The drops, each a source of sound and light, spruce up this dreary suburban sight. As an onlooker, I marvel at the hidden pulchritude of this travel. The hoariness holds an ambition of lingering thaumaturgy. The texture of the windowpane, the ancient scent of rain, as a visitor to this scene, I find magic, dawning, to be divined, Even when engirt by zones of storm.