SHY RAIN

The rain was shy,
with nothing to say
but some splashes
on the stones beside the school.
It came quietly,
like it was looking
to pass by quickly
with no one noticing.
He never knew rain
would worry about being seen,
or that clouds, maybe,
would make themselves small
so someone outside in spring
would see the sunshine
instead of the clouds,
and the clouds could carry on
with their journeys
in silence and solitude.
He, too, was shy,
just seeking to blend
with the background,
so he understood the ways
of this bashful shower
as it sought to escape
and just be itself
in the woods
beyond the school.