Dancing in the rain

I was 7.
the rain caressed,
my lips,
and my exposed shoulders,
my yellow,
tank top,
drenched in water,
outshone the gloomy sky,
of the July evening.

The wet mud,
that lay in front of my
driveway
squished,
and smuggled,
through each of my little,
toes.

The earthworms,
emerged from their,
mushroom top homes,
their,
grassy hilltop burrows,
and the,
soil in which,
mossy tree stocks,
sew through,
like brown,
dusty fabrics you would find,
in an abandoned quilt factory.

Tiny sprouts,
of little waterfalls,
and intricate bulbs,
of water,
dive

Tiny beads,
of perspiration,
cluster and navigate through,
the maze of spaces,
between each pore,
and hair,
of arm.

Us mortals,
dance through,
freely,
so that the sorrow within,
is transferred,

The dark circles,
of seclusion,
and,
despondency,
are eradicated from my soul,
until the,
storms of a salty sea,
wails of mother nature herself,
stop flowing.
until the rainbow,
of,
faint crimson,
obscured lightning orange,
pale yellow,
muzzy lime,
and,
fluorescent cyan,
bridge past the ashy clouds,
and the emerging sun.