from the grey

i glanced out the window 

and smiled at the rain 

as it tumbled. 

it fell into winding 

rivulets and streams, 

looking for the ocean. 

the grey and cold 

did not concern me, 

nor the wet roads. 

i only thought about 

how it watered 

the flowers and the trees. 

the others said it was ugly, 

and asked how one 

could still stand it. 

i said dance in the rain, 

and think about all the 

things that come from the grey.