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Rain on a Mountain
There’s a mountain outside the door, and I love how it takes up space with no apology. It doesn’t shrink, doesn’t shake, doesn’t blink an eye. But every time it rains, it always hides behind a cloak of clouds. All its sharp edges are softened by mist. A touch of water, and even the mountain hides.
A cold shower makes you shiver. Tears break your heart. Rain soaks everything, your hair shrinks, and your clothes stick to your skin, giving you a hug. A ripple on the surface of a lake, and your reflection breaks. All that the ocean ever does, is remind you of things.
Maybe the rain falling is a culmination of everything. Tears we cried in July, wiped them off our cheeks, dried on our palms, evaporated into the air, condensed in the clouds, falling as rain. The gutter will open its mouth towards the sky and drink all our tears. Having tasted their sweetness and salt, now we know why the mountain hides when it rains.
