Umbrellas and Rain

The sky cries,
Its tears dropping like marbles,
When they are dropped.
It sounds calming,
Like static on a TV when nothing is on,
Because the cable has been switched off.
There are dreary looking clouds in the sky,
Grey and cold looking,
With swelled up stomachs,
That need to be emptied.
People’s feet splash the water on the sidewalks,
Tossing it up into the air,
Like confetti.
Cars go down streets,
Picking up water as they go,
Spraying the cold substance everywhere.
Trees are being nourished by the rain,
And they drip excess liquid from their leaves onto the ground.
Umbrellas are flung open in a quick manner,
Shielding children, teenagers, and adults from the water.
They are all sorts of colors.
Red, blue, green, yellow, orange, pink, white, black,
And the designs are all unique.
Polka dotted, striped, and plain,
They fill the air with beauty and wonder.
All of the umbrellas look like a parade,
They’re each trying to impress the other.
They hover in the air,
Suspended like kites,
But carried for protection, instead of for fun.
The rain is magical,
And it brings out the beauty in all things.
It nourishes,
And cleanses all life.
The wind picks up then,
And brings with it cold air.
It blows wet leaves through the air,
And flings people’s hair all over the place.
After a while the wind ends,
And all that can be heard is the drip, drip of the rain.