Descriptive Essay: Rain And Rain

Each day, the sun facilitates new bursts of life while the rain grants its safe passage. Today is like no other. The winter sky the is a widow’s sky, grave and weeping. From my window I can see the churlish clouds that are as merciless as the dragons the roam alongside them. They seem to convulse with anger and with each convulsion, they cough out great fits of water, as if to say, “you are no match for forces at be.” As I curl up against my seat in economy class, the torrential rain teems down in a biblical deluge, flooding the Mekong River, drowning the rice fields and washing away the soil that anchors the stilted houses. It reminds me of the perpetual flood that wrecked havoc on Noah and his disciples, an unending cataract of water cascading from the heavens. Our 737 Boeing airplane swerves to avoid a flash of lightening

Steaming shrouds of cloud coil and writhe. Then an unearthly caterwauling sound fills the air. The wind whips up into frenzy. It is a shrieking, keening omen of the carnage to follow. The clouds race across the sky, thrumming with the charged energy they are desperate to release. It starts with big, sopping drops of moisture. They are wild and indiscriminate, plump missiles of mass destruction that splatter onto the soft soil. The topsoil turns into slushy goo, but it doesn’t matter. The harvest has been taken in and the farmer stokes the glowing coals with a poker and a sigh of contentment. The rain is sissing and hissing off the roof, teeming onto the spongy earth. The farmer thinks about how most gifts come with a cost. He shudders at the thought of another winter, but counts his blessings that the rain has once again ensured his livelihood.

To him, the rain is the nectar of the gods and the serum of the sky. He is neither philosopher nor ancient mariner, neither writer nor jungle adventurer, yet he understands the importance of nature’s bounty.

If beauty is God’s signature, then rain is his final