For all we claim to understand,
We will never know whether
the heavens cry from sorrow or joy.
Walking the two blocks from our old apartment to the beach was a common occurrence when we lived in New Smyrna Beach, and we frequently passed locals and people visiting our little surf town – walking dogs, perusing shops, heading ocean-side with surfboard in tow – but not once in the three years we lived there did we see someone stop to admire the hibiscus, oleander, or other countless flowers lining the streets and neighborhoods.
Maybe that’s why it rains.