Orphan of the Sky by Roy Neyman
SUMMARY: Just for fun.
A broad bay stretched below, its expanse forming an inky blue skirt hemmed with mother-of-pearl, crystal and aqua stroked with swirls of dark green. There, where dark transitioned to bright, hung the tiny speck of a sailboat, a jewel reminiscent of the raindrop's own shape.
An inaudible sigh trailed the droplet as the sky withdrew its comfort, releasing its child to find its own way. Inexorably, it gravitated downward, arcing this way or that as the breeze had its way.
The yacht was looming ever larger and details became more clear, ...masts pointing to the sky, blue covers and teak decks offering some relief from the bright white housetop, the anchor chain curving away from the bow.
Plummeting downward, the rain drop soon began to show an exaggerated curve of shoreline through its body, the grey sky above and the dark blue sea below. Measured at last against the scale of the land and the bay and the sailboat rather than the vast sky, the last few hundreds of feet flashed by.
The shape of a man took form on the boat. His bronzed face turned upward, a shock of sun-whitened hair, brown shoulders and chest, ragged jeans, bare feet. The play of his boat on the water was so familiar that he hardly felt the sway and rock of the deck beneath him. Yet, if he stepped ashore, his legs would continue the dance they missed and he would sway instead.
It didn't take an instant for the bay to take the raindrop in, welcoming it to its new home with a tiny pillar of splash and concentric ripples announcing its arrival across the water. Minuscule but persistent, the little circular wave rushed along the surface toward the boat nestled in the shallows. The raindrop's echo met the hull and pushed itself back where it came from, contributing a small portion of its infinitesimal energy to the incessant movement of the boat.
What was that, the man thought.