All afternoon, the cat sits on the porch, watching the rain fall. After a morning of blustery winds and furious downpours, the storm has gentled, and the glittering gray streaks slow, turning to isolated drops that send concentric circles across the shiny pavement where they land. With dusk, the rain is reduced to mist, and the clouds settle to become fog. Porch lights come on and grow halos, and living room lamps glow softly through wet windows. The shapes of the forest loom about the placid houses, and is filled with the drumming drips of the abated storm. Wind sounds in the treetops, but is no longer fierce. It is like a sigh of relief released at the end of some arduous task. Still, the drifting clouds obscure the moon and stars, and hang a dark portent above the wet world. The serene evening may be but a lull.