In fields of patchy grass,
Of mud, and of all that's washed its way here,
I'm taken.
Mystified.
As the rain drenches my soul
Through the glass of my
Front door window.
I am home here,
With this comforting patter.
Clean, crisp, and new.
Everything glistens in the rain,
Even the ugliest of things.
Transforming the ground before us,
Washing away days passed.

Why can't it rain everyday?

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