The sky is blanketed with a film of washed out gray. The hushed, soft drops of rain caress the wanting green. They sound their landing with a tender, cushioned plop. A candle flickers on the sill illuminating droplets and rendering them crystals. Seemingly forsaken, a willow weeps, her tendrils sway like golden feathers in the faint whisper of a muted breeze. Brush bristle pine boughs sag and glisten, soused with tiny beads of wet sky. The stillness paints a calm and directs the soul reticent. Placidity is welcomed like a lover. Arms open, heart brimming with sincerity and a conscience filled with utter contentment.
This moment is the breath of simplicity and I am grateful.