After a week of sunshine and blistering heat, I welcome the rain this morning. In fact, I've opened the window to the basement library where my writing desk resides, so I can hear the rain fall and the cars driving by my house slosh through the many puddles on the street.
Earlier, when the rain was falling very heavily, I exited the back door of our home and stood on the back deck under the awning, watching and listening to the rain patter above my protected head, the birds flying quickly to the nearby bushes and trees. I wasn't thinking much at that moment; I was just looking and listening. As I type this post, I'm thinking of the dead bird that I buried yesterday under our corner forsythia bush, the latest of many birds and rabbits that have met perhaps untimely ends in my yard and the immediate neighboring area. I recall how warm it was yesterday when I dug that hole, placed the tiny bird into it, laid a cross made from twigs on its body, said a few prayers, and moved the dirt back upon the bird and into the hole. The rain this morning is firming that spot, nourishing it, and soon grass will grow over the spot where the tiny bird lay, as it has with the others. So, rain, perhaps others may curse you this morning, but you've brought a little something special to my day. I thank you. And DON'T go away. Steve
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
Steve Sears is a New Jersey based freelance writer
Archives
February 2024
Categories |