I love the sound of rain outside my window. It means so much to me. A time to turn inward. A moment to think about what I can do to create the world that I want and of course when I hear rain in the spring, I see little roots of plants spreading and blossoms blooming and all of the plants and insects getting the nourishment that they need to embrace the next sunshine filled day. It is time to acquire what I need for the coming days. It is not a day that interrupts, it is a day of nourishment. Go out and get the nourishment that you need to seize the next day of sunshine. Below is a poem that I chose to memorize for a third grade project. How I was able to stand up and recite this
with all of my horrible shyness and speech issues, I will never know but I did and I still recite it to myself during every spring rain. Find your poem!
April Rain
It isn't raining rain to me, It's raining daffodils; In every dimpled drop I see Wild flowers on the hills. The clouds of grey engulf the day And overwhelm the town — It isn't raining rain to me, It's raining roses down. It isn't raining rain to me, But fields of clover bloom Where any buccaneering bee May find a bed and room. A health unto the happy, A fig for him who frets — It isn't raining rain to me, It's raining violets.