nightrain

the rain was insistent and constant in its patter. ending the quiet, and breaking the brief spells between a lull and the dream... what yesterday left in its wake.




the windowsill, an open book. the sky before it opens to dawn.





it was raining twilight that night. just outside the window. i cannot tell what remains from droplets of rain as they fall and flower on glass. the wind blowing on cold damp stars of morning