Quiet

[rejectomorph]

As dusk gathered, a few stormy-looking clouds formed in the west. They lie. Not only is there clear weather ahead, but the temperatures will be rising into the summery eighties by the week's end. Tough times for Sluggo. Right now, I'm watching the gray masses vanish into the deepening darkness and pretending that they are storm clouds, and that a fresh spring rain will soon fall. Maybe I'll even turn the lawn sprinkler on, so I can listen the drops splattering and smell the dampness. If I can't have the real thing, at least I can have the illusion. I'm a bit disappointed that there has not been a single thunderstorm yet this spring. The distant rumble of thunder is a seasonal delight I miss. I do have a few evening minutes of crickets chirping, but the temperature drops so quickly with nightfall that they are soon silenced. Then it is only the frogs and the night birds who enliven the cool stillness. Oh, for a single thunderclap!