The Wet

[rejectomorph]

It's nice to go to sleep to the sound of steady rain, and wake up to exactly the same sound, the same gray shade, as though no time had passed at all. It's nice to know that the streams, so recently sluggish, are now burbling in their green gullies, carrying fallen leaves off to mulch their banks at lower elevations. It's nice that the small birds find an afternoon feast in the softened soil. It's pleasant to watch the clouds begin to thin late in the evening, small patches of blue opening in the dark patchy ceiling to reveal higher white puffs still lit by the setting sun. Then the moon, one day short of full, rises behind a screen of thinning foliage and turns the drifting tatters silver. The rain has stopped, but night is periodically illuminated by flashes of lightning. I wait for thunder that never comes.