The pale green bud stems of the mulberry tree grow in clusters at the ends of twigs. Sodden with rain, they hang like small chandeliers, a bright bead of water at the end of each stem reflecting dim light that falls from cottony gray sky, so that the entire tree glitters. A blue jay lands on a thin branch, sets the stems quivering, and the light on that branch falls away. With the next shower, the light will return. The day itself is as soft as the rain, as soft as the pale color of the wet lilacs, or the purr of the cat on the windowsill.