Or call it something else.

What is it about the sound of rain that I hear it in the wind and trees that I hear it approaching in cars on the freeway that I hear it in sliding gravel and burning leaves? Like the telephone that seems to ring when I’m singing in the shower maybe it is telling me that I’m expecting something that that something is happening and that I must know what it is. The sound is cleansing changing and the same being single drops and a million all at once out my window and everywhere. I no more could live without it than without an earth and sky.

24 August 1980