What is it about rain?

What is it about rain that puts my soul at such peace?

What is it about rain that makes everything with visible form a balm to my eyes?

What is it about rain that makes every audible sound a delight to my ears?

What is it about rain's scent that makes me greedy to fill my lungs?

The rain washes away the dirt of the busy city street.

It creates reflections on every surface and makes christmas lights out of traffic signals. It makes a grey, solemn heaven out of the sky. It makes kinetic magic out of the movement of people, hurrying through puddles on the wet concrete of the sidewalk.

I stretch my hand out of the window to feel the gentle wind caress my fingers. I press my face to the glass to gaze at the tiny, pristine droplets that hang over the world's reflection. I feel the cold seep into my skin, begging me to leave my warm abode. I am overwhelmed with a steady, silent, nameless emotion.

What is it about rain?