Rainy Mornings

I woke up to the sound of rain washing down the roofs, soaking the soil at the yard, which hasn't have a chance to dry up for weeks. "Water saturated soils". Mornings are hard, particularly when it's still dark outside and you have to get out of the bed and get going, but as rain drummed iddly on the roofs with perfect rhythm, I stayed away enjoying the percussion of water. The air was chilli and it had a soft touch to it, gentle and permeating matter. It felt more alive, fuller of Spirit and energy than ever before. Concrete and clay tile were all the more beautiful drenched in water, clad in irregular shiny layers that tremble to the slightest breeze. Shivers.

Sookie was all fresh and cold today, more beautiful, dare I say. Everything, the little streets I drove on, the city as it stretched before me, wet, waking, shivering. How can anyone dislike rainy mornings? How can anyone do anything but love them? No harsh lights, no heat creeping up on you. A silence branded by a sort of white noise, the song of nature through non-born voices. Everything wrapped in the scents of water. Isn't that the most delicious thing in the world? Or maybe it's just because some of us live with a Water Spirit inside.