The bold rain was gallant.
Rushing to the unreached, it
threw itself down.
The gentle rain was relaxed.
Happy with its lot, it pattered
rhythmically down.
The fast rain was competing.
It twisted and plunged,
racing to the earth.
The thin rain was nervous.
It came steadily, but held
onto fears as it came.
The quiet rain was peaceful.
It fell and pooled
gracefully down below.
The thick rain was angry.
It beat the rooftops, demanding
attention.
The baby rain was new.
It tried out different ways to
send itself down to earth.
Mimicking all the triumphs it saw before.
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