Beholding the Rain

It is raining, And it patters gently onto skylights, Streams trickling down onto concrete and wood. It is a grey storm that quickly ushers the blue from the sky, And soon lightning and hail grace our lives. It is mesmerising, It is soothing, It is common.

And with every bout of rain comes a group of poems, A group of people writing about the same thing. And every time someone dismisses them derisively, As if we are not inspired by our lives, As if everyone sees the same sky with the same eyes, As if novelty and uniqueness are the only things that matter. I find it comforting to know that somewhere, Someone else is also writing a poem about the rain. I find it comforting to know That I am not the only beholder of this beauty.