Slow and gentle rain

This is no loud and cataclysmic rain, diagonal deluge or bombs of sharp and hissing drops to starburst on the pane,

but the plucking of a tall, ethereal harp among the cottonwoods and sycamores; a dimpling of the puddles in the grass, a drowsiness that grows behind closed doors, wishing this kind of peace need never pass. Nothing at all disturbs the leisurely and vertical descent of lazy showers;

they strum and tap and tick away the hours - we recognize the simple melody that drowns our yielding senses in the deep

night-long mysterious sea of singing sleep.

About these ads
Sponsored Content by LockerDome

We want to hear, did we miss an angle we should have covered? Should we come back to this topic? Or just give us a rating for this story. We want to hear from you.

Loading...

Loading...

Loading...

Save for later

Save
Cancel

Saved ( of items)

This item has been saved to read later from any device.
Access saved items through your user name at the top of the page.

View Saved Items

OK

Failed to save

You reached the limit of 20 saved items.
Please visit following link to manage you saved items.

View Saved Items

OK

Failed to save

You have already saved this item.

View Saved Items

OK