Misting

That's what I call it when the raindrops are so teeny-tiny that they don't seem to be falling, but kind of hang there instead. It's not really mist, but it's pretty close, and I love the way it feels to walk through it. It's not plop, plop, plop or even pitter, pitter, it's a million tiny cold wet kisses all landing on your skin. Lord, thank you for misting.