The all-night rain has eased into drizzle. A drenched squirrel plods through the yard. A catbird appears on a branch and sings half a note.
rain
Friday April 27, 2018
The rain peters out, and the daffodils stop bobbing to its beat like headbangers. A gnatcatcher resumes its sallies from the lilac bush.
Thursday April 19, 2018
I slept in, but what have I slept into? Rain. No, snow. No, sun. The wind roaring on the wrong ridge. Church bells ringing in town.
Monday April 16, 2018
The sound of water has returned to the mountain. Trees wear dark suits of rain embroidered with lichen. In every puddle the same blank sky.
Tuesday April 03, 2018
Cold rain and fog. A squirrel disappears into the old flicker den hole in the dead elm, that smooth, ruined column at the edge of the yard.
Friday March 30, 2018
Cloudy and cold, though the birds are chirpy as ever. Fine day for an outdoor wedding, the gloomy groom says to himself. It starts to rain.
Thursday March 01, 2018
Overcast and still. A wild goose flies over, honking as if on the proverbial chase. The dry leaves and dead grass begin to tick with rain.