The brevity of each appearance of stars indicated that the clouds were moving swiftly, yet even as dawn nears they are not exhausted. The storm must be quite broad. I enjoy watching clouds pass by night, finding in their movement a sense of drama. But, without the moonlight, this storm is like a play performed mostly in pantomime on a stage too dim -- and only the geese had any lines. A bit of thunder and lightning would have helped, but it is too early in the year for that. With spring, there will be thunderstorms, and I await them eagerly.
Tonight, despite all the clouds there was little rain -- a few desultory sprinkles sufficient to maintain the dampness, but too weak to give the downspout voice. Thus was the night's performance largely wasted. Perhaps the coming night will bring at least some small excitement. For now, I will hope that sleep will be more interesting than this relentless but silent passage of an all but arid storm.