Color of the Sky

I slowly open my eyes and watch the
Big, round drops stream down the
Window.
The rain drops leave a sort of thin,
Watery trail behind them:
Their footprint.
I turn the knob of the front door,
And despite the pouring rain,
I step outside.
I pull my waterproof pad of paper out of my jacket pocket.
Letting the rain pour down on the paper,
I gaze at the sight:
3D, circular drops form all over the paper.
I run my finger-tips over the drops on my paper,
Letting them slide across the pad like
Oil on wax.
After a few minutes, the rain stops pouring cats and dogs and
Stays at a constant light drizzle.
I turn around to go back into the house,
Just as a gust of wind
Blows through the neighborhood and
Tousles my hair.
Back inside, I sit beside my window.
Dark, ominous clouds are briskly moving
Through the sky.
My eyes follow a few tainted-orange leaves
As they spin upward,
Like helicopters,
In a twirling dance of chance.
Will the leaves fly higher and higher,
Riding the wind?
Or will they fall swiftly to
Their silent deaths?
A faint crackle of thunder echoes outside.
More leaves are flying around,
Spinning in circles.
I know a flash of beautiful violet will
Illuminate the sky at any moment.
But for now, I wait.

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