Wet lips.

Last night I stood in the rain in my underwear.
I allowed the rain to be.
I didn’t run as a child would, laughing and loving the moment.
I didn’t shake myself and curse the wet weather as my Mother would.
Nor did I hurriedly open an umbrella in a vain effort to hide from it.
No...No...No...I let the rain be.

I stood there with gentle water dripping down my face.
I allowed the water to be.
I didn’t reach for a towel as my Mother always did.
I didn’t shake my head as a young girl might in the shower.
Nor did I quickly wipe the drops from my face with my hands.
No...No...No... I let the water be.

Something happened while I stood there soaking wet.
Some of the rain stopped at my mouth.
It was almost begging me to taste it.
I did not spit it out like an old woman might.
I did not wipe my mouth like young men do and cough.
Nor was I horrified by the rain on my lips.
No...No...No..I tasted it and the glorious rain allowed me to be.