Why Does the Mallard Love the Rain?

I listen as it runs along the gutters
and through the downspouts -

rain,

on its musical journey
from an ominous cloud line
to an ever-succulent Earth below.

It creates small pools of murky water,
gathers near beds of geraniums and lilac bushes,
then settles in to rest beneath the forgotten sun.

I wonder why rain falls with such intent?
Why it can neither be held back,
nor suddenly appear by need nor prayer.

I wonder why it's defiant
through drought,
yet flagrant through flood.

And then, there is the Mallard -
a simple soul who gleans peace from the rain
and seems to wonder about nothing at all.