What are your earliest and fondest memories of dance?
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Feel the rain. The music it makes as it dances on the roof, outside my window. Feel that?
Hear the rain. It taps onto my shirt, molding it to my skin. Do you hear that?
See the rain. Its life-giving essence two-stepping into the earth in my garden. Can you see it? How about now?
Smell the rain. Inhale the rivulets waltzing down my window glazing. Breathe deeply.
Taste the rain. Savor the cleanliness resulting from the gentle ballet, the dampening of the smog. Relish it.
Listen to the sounds of my children sleeping. Listen closely. They are still. Slumber, soothed by the dances of the rain.
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tnkerr-Writing Prompts and Practice 