The air feels light, less dense.
It moves with varying speeds, directions.
It has a special smell of wet.
(My kindergarten teacher said water doesn't have a smell.)
Almost imperceptibly at first
a few drops start falling,
nothing to really worry over.
(Although, Mom still called to check up on us.)
A short trip outside for the dog.
She doesn't mind the wet,
only the stronger winds.
(They're what'll give us the most trouble, anyway.)
Nothing to do but wait,
avoid being outside,
and hope for others' safety.
(It'll pass, like everything else.)
We Write Poems #69 3+(1) form
Poetry Tow Truck #35: Rain