Rain all the way from Japan

My muse is running down the street in her underwear, shouting, "Rain!" She is giddy with the smell of it, the feel of wind and rain all the way from Japan flowing on her skin. Her snakes are shivering in a frenzy, lapping up the rain drops with golden tongues, eyes wide in wonder because they forgot what rain smelled like. It's been too long since Northern California has felt rain, and now it seems that four years of drought is trying to break free in one glorious torrent in one stormy day.

The sound of rain on my roof soothes my nerves. I light a candle and watch rain drops run down the window pains, leaving long fingers of gleaming water. My muse is still outside, refusing to come in, even though snakes are cold blooded and if they had teeth they would be chattering. She squats beside the garden and watches the ground soak up the moisture so fast she can hear it hiss. The snakes answer. Rain... rain... rain... rain...

As you can see, rain stokes my creativity. I'll probably be up most of the night writing terrible poetry.