The sounds of moisture

Besides the water that it brings,
and the ways that this wetness changes the environment
visually,
there are sounds
that are no less wonderful.

They are welcomed, too.

When the rain has stopped,
the quietness which follows
is accented, or rather, misted
as cars make contact with the recent water.

I am unaware of any paws,
or special type of human walk,
no matter the amount of footsteps
or intention
that can do this.

At this exact moment
I am trying to find a word, an onomatopoeia
that can accurately capture the sound that I hear in my head.
The difficulty I am having in doing so
is perhaps the very thing that I find most precious,
outside of human relationships.

On alignment

I can't recall when exactly it happened, 

but I learned,
at some time during the years that I have lived,
that words are very important, 

and should be chosen carefully

when used.
When possible.

Because "fuck", "fuck" and "fuck" can sound similar
but be intended so differently,
it is necessary to discern between "I am frustrated", "I am angry" and "I am exasperated".
After all, they don't really sound the same,
if you listen closely.

I imagine that an increase in information,
and probably more so,
greater precision,
are necessary
if one's wish is to align their speech more closely with the complexity
of themselves as an organism.

And while I doubt that this is true of language only,
I find there to be something remarkably satisfying
when
the hard work
necessary to achieve sparsity
produces something elegant.