It's been raining.
April showers. To finish the holiday.
We've had days of driving rain,
the dried out reeds like wet gold
stitched in zig zags across my window.
The cold seeping in between the pane and frame
pooling there like a melancholy sigh.
And then it softens to a ghostly whisper,
barely heard on the rooftop.
A faint mizzling that somehow drenches.
Yet rests lightly on me
a gentle hand.
I am overcome, on days like these,
with wonder and quiet joy.
Soothed with the silence it brings, the promise of peace.
And in the morning, a moment of light, a brightening shade,
Oh. I am patient.