When the rain comes at night,
I don’t hear it fall,
I hear it travel.

Above me, around me,
So much water, I become part of it.

Thousands of drops in a steady convoy,
flowing down gutters and pipes,
pooling towards the grate.

The sound is indistinct, but rhythmic.

Like hitting your palm on a drumhead,
Or tossing a coin on a counter.

So much water, it’s become part of me.