I stepped out the door
to be greeted by vines of wine
I was on the run
(in Weimar, an old German town)
a storm in the gray sky
I left the roof of the porch
and its wine vined columns
to turn my face upwards
and meet the rain with all my senses
How delicious it was to feel the rain on my face!

This was part of my multi-layered, complex dream last night. It has brought along a poem, too.