As I walk out of my room, I am greeted by this winter rain. A soft spray of cold water caresses my jaw while I move along the balcony, as if to cajole me into joining it in it's emotion.
The wind whips up the beads of sweat born from seasons past into a frenzy so great they conceive ghosts of the land crashing against buildings as though to reclaim the earth which is now vertical against it's wishes. The forest in front of me is awash, blushing it's beauty with the rain washing away all that made it forget who it was.
A part of this torrent is caught in my neighbor's rooftop. The thousand droplet soldiers march to the steady drum of the drainpipe relieving itself on the tin sheet placed under it. The sky is painted blue with the deep color that only clouds with filled bellies can bring. A tinge of red peaks out behind the horizon as if to catch one last glimpse of this scene before going to bed.
Humans scurry about their shelters, filling up containers with what I have to spare. The smoke rises from their mounds and meets my gift halfway, mixing and mating with it until it falls back on land not gift and not smoke anymore. Humans. I've watched them since the beginning of time and as a people, they have watched me too. They have inspired in me emotion from time to time and so have I in them.
We are all prisoners, together in this walled reality of capability. What is, can. Thus the both of us trapped, beautiful things.