I Eat the Rain

I hear the steady drizzle
of rain on my roof
and cannot sleep.
Thinking I will
walk around
and maybe peek out to see
the wondrous flood,
I get up and go
to the window.
The pane is cold against my nose.
Watching, I can almost
feel the cool rain running down
my face.
imagining is not enough.
I throw open the door,
run out into the wet,
squish the mud between
my toes,
drink in the fresh-washed air,
tip my face up
to the clouds.
And now,
I eat the rain.