Precipitate

Clouds gather and cover the moon, taking all the shadows from the ground. Moonlight suffuses the celestial vapor, setting night aglow, so that every corner of the landscape is dimly revealed. Rain arrives. The pavement seems to darken at first, as it grows wet, but patches of it soon fill with shining sky. Water's weight makes pine branches droop, and the mulberry sounds out a constant tapping as the sibilant raindrops slap its glinting leaves. Soaked wood scents the air, as does the wet grass, and the moldering leaves, and the damp soil. Hours of steady drumming pass, and then the rain slows. The moon has set, darkening both sky and land, leaving the shapes of the trees barely discernible. At last, the rain ceases, and only the drops falling from the trees and the trickling rivulets running at the road verge make a sound. Locust and cricket, too, have gone silent. The clouds thin, and a patch of clear sky emerges to reveal a few stars. A window shows a sudden light, a shaft of which catches the beads that sprinkle the grass. It is as though the ground had more stars than the sky.

After

The tail end of an autumn cold front which has passed by night makes for a splendid day. The freshness of the world is almost springlike. All the moss that covers the trees is invigorated, and its green dampness provides a luxuriant visual feast. The sky-scapes change by the minute, providing endless entertainment. Flights of birds describe ephemeral fractals as delightful as their songs. Most pleasant of all is the air, cool and clear, still scented with rain, but giving passage to a limpid sunlight in which the rejuvenated world basks. The inhalation of this air, I am sure, is to every creature a source of joy. The birds sing constantly until the sun sets.