The first drop.
The little, tiny cold drop of water falls on my skin.
My dry cracked skin, like the parched earth by the intense heat of the sun.
The sun usually so dominant, now so insignificant, like a horse abandoned in a desert.
A desert thirsty for water, one drop of it.
A tiny drop of rain falls down with grace and purity, dances on my cheek for a while and then slides down. I open my dreamy, squinting eyes and look at the promising sky. its bright and wide and majestic. Softly bouncing its way down, the second drop of rain rushes down with velocity more than the first. i swirl and run and spread my arms as the rain tickles me as it falls. i feel like a bird soaring into the endless skies celebrating the clouds' homecoming.
on such moments when the wind is blowing, the sky is dark with pregnant clouds, the rains' pouring down, and there is hardly any sign of a flying creature; you would see a brave, wild bird flying alone in the sky. enjoying her flight in the pouring rain and testing her own capacity of fighting her way through the cold winds.