Novel with the rain

Chapter 1.

There is no wind. The jets are straight, like strings. Powerful. Not violin powerless thin thread, but weighty double-bass cords. Bymts! Bymts!

Closer to the sun - it’s warmer there - light clouds hastily group into flocks and discuss something - probably about strategy.  From above,.. for them from below... Much lower, which is explained by their lightness... By heavyness,  if the clouds are black...  And looking from below... No, on the contrary... No, well, you've seen how quickly everything changes! The light clouds are already gone! There is only thunderstorm expansion in the sky!
It lashes and washes watercolors from the streets in order to apply new colors to the wet Whatman paper.
Otherwise it’s as if it’s apologizing, drizzling shyly.

Everything up there is constantly changing, forming, fussing, and fitting correctly. When a blue clearing is formed, the sun blazes from it so much that it makes your soul thrilled! The soul is small, what does it need! To warm up and soar into that very blue!
Drunk on ozone, midges crawl out of their hiding places and sway blissfully in the crystalline post-rain air.
Bang! - a deceptive maneuver, and a new tub of moisture! Next moment - the generous sun again!

Chapter 2.

A black bird, slightly larger than a sparrow with a bright yellow beak, bathes in a bowl of rainwater. Turns its head briskly and - plop into the water! Dive-somersault, like a real swimmer. Crushes the water under itself with its wings shr-r-r! And from under them there’s a fountain of fr-r-r!  Had its fill of swimming. Jumped out onto the edge of the bowl, sits, and rests. The tail drowned half in the water, oh well!

The rain has stopped. If it doesn't lie again. Well, over there on the side the clouds have completely broken. The hole is spreading before our eyes, like on a worn down with use sheet. The last bean-sized drops splash down. The grey cloud got weight loss and twists out the remnants: here are some farewell slaps on the tops of your heads, ding-n-ng!

The little swimmer took the second approach: it dived into the bowl and flounders. Squeaks slightly with pleasure. Got out to the “shore”, shook itself off, and fluttered onto the fence. All at once the sun comes out from behind a cloud. Сome on, come on, it’s time to dry out, little pretty girl! Sits on the fence - clean, washed - sorts out the feathers with her beak, puts them in order...

Chapter 3.
 
And that's all!