Rain

It was raining. The rain came down in cold, grey sheets; hard and driving. It found its way between collars and inside shoes. Nothing could be seen clearly. The rain lent a grey mantle to the whole street; a mantle constantly ruffled by the wind. Raindrops seemed to hit the cobbles with repeated hammer-like blows. Silently, almost magically, large pools of water appeared, only to gurgle eagerly down latticed drain openings.

Rainy Street Scene The rain spat onto the pavements and the road; drumming against windows and closing doors as securely as any lock. From the roofs the rain trickled down in slow, steady rivulets; in places the rain was slow-motioned into dripping off an edge in silver-grey globules. The wind whipped round corners, flicking puddles into action and holding a light spray up for a moment, before dancing away. The tree stood unmoving in the wind, letting the rain wash its leaves and bark and boughs, before reaching thirsty roots. Soon the tree smelt mustily damp.

As suddenly as it had come the rain stopped. And as the sun came through the clouds it lit upon the washed, fresh street in its silence.

In the distance a rainbow shone.

Michael Baptiste 4A

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