Spraying the windows in its peppering sound;
Dispersing its droplets one after the other,
Dispersing the people now running for cover.
And for every one drop there’s a million more
Cascading and tumbling to make sodden the floor
Where it forms little puddles that soon become lakes,
Then the wind blows it this way then over to there
Directing the stair rods with never a care;
’til wet is above you, below, all about,
Your umbrella now pointless as it turns inside out.
No, it’s not the rain I dislike, no, not a bit
It’s the wet that I hate as I drip…drip…drip