Jessica Korte, Grade 12
Eerie and beautiful, the first silver globule begins its swift, silent descent.
It speeds downwards, ever downwards, buffeted by the rush of the wind.
Yet, obeying the relentless pull of gravity, it falls.
The first drop is followed by others, mimicking its downward path;
The soft, gentle sound of impact a balm for frayed nerves,
Lulling to sleep the restless listener.
Its sweetly drumming rhythm washes clean all that lies below.
Renewing and replenishing the earth.
The gentle, nurturing kiss of rain.