Mother nature is crying

Mother nature is crying.
She's thrown in the towels and decided to be down in the dumps for the day.
She emanates a slow steady constant plea for help, washing her hands clean of it. Whatever "it" may be.
She's kicking and screaming on the roof of my car and the wind shield wipers tune her out while diligently engaged in their synchronized swim.
The roads shimmer and the puddles dance with the arrival of each and every raindrop.
The bridge is her momentary muzzle.
The music slowly comes together, the drops mimics a beating drum and the swooshing wipers keep the tempo. Sarah McLaughlin fills in the gaps, the piano seeps in through my ears, lingers for a note of two and my mind has lift off with no regard for gravity. It levitates and hovers between here and there in an intrinsic hypnotic lull.