The rain

It came down all night. She could hear its soft pitter patter on the deck, on the windows, occasionally rousing in volume, ferocity.

In the morning, when she parted the blinds, she could see spools of water accumulated on the deck floor, on the patio table. But it had stopped raining.

Overhead, the clouds were thick, voluminous, but no longer an angry grey. In several spots across, small patches of blue sky peeked out.

She smiled, slid open the patio door and breathed in deeply, this fresh, light morning air, so redolent of wet earth, spring flowers. The promise of spring.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s