Damp Thoughts

Drizzle patters, slaps and plops outside. Grey clouds ooze dusky light into my bedroom where I am entombed in my aquatic bower. Birds are quietly murmuring to the rain. All is heavy, pregnant with humidity and the fecundity that precipitation imports. My book beckons and the tea kettle hoots. Somehow I am sanguine on this freakish August day. Life is swelling, burgeoning in my small world and there is promise of lives yet to come. Blissfully light, I move through this weighty day.