There is no sound so soothing as rain. The steady drops’ rill on the window’s sill sing to me. It is best at night before sleep comes and even better at dawn as sleep leaves. This is when the mad dash of our lives is still. The tide of distant traffic has ebbed or yet to flow.
It’s raining now this afternoon, and from my aerie I hear then see the passing cars sluicing down the glistening black way that is 11th
Place. Already dusk comes and the blue Christmas lights I strung this
Christmas in homage to Mark Roberts on my balcony shimmer in their
subtle brilliance mirrored by the clear plastic barrier against the
screening that shields me, my cat and plants from winter’s elements.
weather persons assure me, the rain will last through the night and I
hope they are right. I could wish for no sweeter lullaby.