The rain has been
pouring this evening. Plunk, plunk, plunk… as the rain lands on the metal tub
sitting on the porch. It reminds me of the soothing sound of rain on a metal
roof.
Sitting on a front porch
and listening to a summer rain plunk on a metal roof. The porch swing chains
creak as they carry it back and forth slowly, one foot lightly keeping the
momentum going as the other leg is tucked underneath me. I can practically smell
the purple in the vetch on the hill. Frogs near the pond jump from logs, land
with a splash and add their own songs to the rain. I feel the bulk of my book;
there is the weight of the actual bound print and the heft of the words resting
in my hands. The words pull me in slowly, sinking me into the moment and
bringing the lyrics of my book alive. The sounds of the rain bring backs lovely
memories and I think of how our senses can be such a gift.
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