rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,
rejectomorph
flying_blind

First Autumn Rain

The rain has begun. For hours, it has fallen in gentle sprinkles or drifted as fine mist, with an occasional quickening that amounts to a pianissimo downpour. The forest night smells woody and wet, and the damp in the air catches the lights of the town so that there is an orange glow in the southwest. Above, the bluish-gray rumples of the clouds are barely visible, like a high dome in a darkened cathedral. I expect to hear the sandhill cranes flying over. It's perfect weather for their return.

I listen to the soft stuttering of the showers, or to the drips falling from the pines in the misty intervals, and the sound is as soothing as the cool, silken air. As yet, there has not been enough rain to make the downspout gurgle or to form rivulets on the ground, but the storm may be hours in passing. There may be a gray day ahead, the sunlight muted to a pearly glow, the clear beads of water gathered on leaves and grass blades the brightest spots to be seen. One can only hope.
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