The old man

must have stopped our car

two dozen times to climb out

and gather into his hands

the small toads blinded

by our lights and leaping,

live drops of rain.

—“Birdfoot’s Grampa,”
Joseph Bruchac

What can readers infer from the line “live drops of rain”?

It was a stormy night.
The toads swam in the rain.
The rain was leaping.
The rain was alive.