The night is dyed with a dark blue colour and the stars are hiding behind the tender orange cotton as they are playing the hide-and-seek with the elegant white snow – the Moon.
The air is full of moisture which is refreshing and I am walking in the rain. My brown umbrella which is printed with Rikaruma is protecting me like a brave thoughtful warrior even though the rain is gentle. He doesn’t allow any playful rain droplets to harm me but I think he is over sensitive. They are just dancing merrily on my umbrella.
The childish rain droplets trickle the smooth greenish with some yellow-spotted leaves who are busy catching the rain with their full attention as they don’t want the ‘children’ to get hurt. The rambutan’s flowers get some ‘diamonds’ to embellish their rosy soft hair. Even the proud selfish purple bauhinias save them. Maybe every lady likes jewelry.
‘Chip. Chip.’ Somebody made noise in the bushes with some dried crispy dead leaves on the soil. A bird with a pointy black and its stomach as white as rice is looking at me with its narrow red eyes. Its clean and tidy feathers are soaked with water and she seems to want my umbrella so I move next to her. But she flies away immediately without looking back. ‘Maybe the Rikaruma scares her,’ I think.
I keep walking and the rain patters on the rough pink bricks on the road and performs wonderful jazzy music. ‘Pat-ti-pat. Pat-ti-pat.’ The trees with brown bark are shaking their bodies with the melody even though each of them is grounded by some black cold bars. It is the only time when they feel glad as they can ‘hang out’ with their friends. I seem to hear them laugh very cheerfully. ‘Ha-ha-ha. Ha-ha-ha.’
Near the root of a tree, a cricket is chirping. Although he is brown and quite ugly, he has a very good voice. ‘Ah! What a wonderful rain and my heart flies with the rain,’ he sings.
Through the lovely lyric, my heart is flowing like the river. When I am enjoying it, a rain droplet falls into my mouth. It is cold but a bit sweet. The sweetness fades out in my mouth and I think, ‘Isn’t it full of joy walking in the rain?’