It can be as gentle as butterfly kisses on your cheeks.
It can be as fast and furious as a bucket full of marbles being tipped.
It can be as shocking as stepping into a cold shower.
Or it can as delicate as walking through a teasing mist, lulling you into believing it it is weak and harmless, but those minute droplets of moisture have hidden strength, leaving you soaked through in your cardigan, dripping from the cuffs.
But my favourite kind of rain is the one that traces delicate streams down window panes, chased by warm little fingers from within.
Joining in with The Gallery at Sticky Fingers and the prompt 'Delicate'