The sky grows dark
and the clouds grow heavy
Doors are shut
while children are rushed indoors
The first drop falls
so hoods begin to move
Where there is one there are more
soon it is umbrellas that start to move
It begins to pour
the grass becomes weighed down
Nothing but the rain moves
not even the insects underground
No one is outside, except for three
and they are doing the unimagineable
They jump in puddles
and laugh at their antics
They are not wrong
They have just mastered the art of joy
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