The branches of the fir tree bounce and sway in the gentle wind of the morning. Forced to dance with an unseen partner, it welcomes the droplets of moisture as they slowly sprinkle, caressing the evergreen. Buds pointed skyward ready to embrace the much-needed nourishment. Manna from heaven.
A light percussion reports back the terminal response of rain as it hits the ground. The soil darkens as it absorbs the sky-flung intruder. The pitter-pat drums out all other sounds of nature. Now resting, subdued until the grey disturbance creeps away.
What seems to dampen all surroundings and one’s mood is only temporary, a flicker of time. A single cloudy morn.
