The rain is saturating our town. It is dripping from the black, wet trees and from the broken gutter. It is spangling the windows and tapping with a faint metallic sound on the cover at the top of the chimney. It is trickling in the streets and making puddles mixed with street sand and soggy leaves and pale worms. It is percolating through the soil and being sucked up through thirsty white roots. It is making sprouts. They are popping up everywhere, appearing like magic overnight, pushing aside the sodden leaves, and making their fresh green debuts.