Is Nothing Certain?

When first heard the rain is but a whisper upon the ground.

A faltering patter, uncertain and unsure “Can I fall here?”

But with the conspiracy of clouds, the rain changes its sound.

“I am here and you cannot turn me away!’

A crashing, hissing, drumming intensity of desire

To wash, drench and move forcefully aside,

For a clear pallet appears for something new to aspire.