What Does the Raindrop Know?
A raindrop is falling, falling, falling. It lands, caught in a pine cone on a tree in the forest in the San Isabel National Forest in Colorado. It was part of an afternoon thunderstorm, one that has now disappeared. The sun is shining again. The raindrop begins to shrink. Part of it is absorbed by the pine cone (but not much).
The rest of it, warmed as the pine cone warms, is transformed and sent back. It is no longer a raindrop. It is no longer anything but a vapor, a dispersion of molecules in the dry air, traveling without aim over the creek and the long green grasses on its banks, and the homes of people lucky enough to build their dream log cabins in the woods, and mountain sides where trees stubbornly grow, and mountain tops covered in scree.
What does the raindrop that is no longer a raindrop know?
This is part of The Exquisite Corpse, a daily writing challenge.