Shhh… don’t say a word.  Just snuggle deeper under the sheets and listen.  It’s here. The rain has finally come. 

Nature’s orchestra is tuning up.  All sorts of different sounds, all meaning the same thing.     Ping, ping, ping.  That’s the downspout.   The rain is bouncing off the roof  like timpani.  Out on the lawn is the steady rhythm of castanets.          Passsh.  A crashing cymbal as the wind assaults my window with a  wall of  water.         Far off, faintly in the background is a distant rumble of thunder and a gurgle of a catch basin somewhere.  Occasionally a shissh of spray when cars drive up the road.   A steady drum roll beats out the storm on the driveway.   The leaves smack together in applause.     Later at intermission the morning birds talk about the performance.