Raindrops...

The raindrops glisten as I listen.
A gentle patter until they splatter.
Stirring of the winds into calm my soul it sends.
Outside it's whirling, darkening clouds unfurling.
Outside its thundering, while inside some are slumbering.
I cannot say, cannot hear, what it is I may fear.
Not the rain. It causes me no pain.
The rythmatic beating of the drops. To them I give props.
It has a calming touch, to a great extent and such.
Why do people, alone, love it so? That is something I may never know.