------
the
cell phone doesn’t ring when i’m here.
i’ve
been down here four days,
and it
hasn’t rung even once.
i sit
here in the study
behind
a laptop,
little
cricket sounds
issuing
from the speakers
at
random intervals,
my
daughter standing at
my side
as
thunder rumbles outside.
it’s
raining.
the
rain splatters on the window,
dripping
from the big
trees
overhead,
flicking
the leaves of the foliage
in the
landscaping beyond the window.
a bird
squawks somewhere high above.
either
calling for his mate,
or
pissed off at being wet.
little
pools of water ripple
in the
grass.
it’s
flat down here,
and
there’s nowhere for the water
to
run-off.
my
daughter lays her little head
on my
leg.
she’s
tired.
trying
to have a bowel movement
for an
hour
will do
that to you.
the
bird is squawking.
still
pissed off.
the
rain has slackened,
but
still falls with
those
big gulf coast drops.
everything
is soaked
and
dripping.
the day
seems soggy.
and yet
it’s serene;
peaceful
in a
meditative
sort of
way.
the
thunder is just
a
gentle rumble
in the
distance,
deep in
the belly of the
white
clouds nesting overhead.
the
rain is kind,
not
harsh.
and the
wind
brushes
the leaves with baby’s fingers,
testing,
prodding,
curious.
the
hanging clock in the study
tick-tocks
away,
the
only sound in the house
besides
my typing.
it’s
older than i am –
it has
been a part of this family
since
before
i was
conceived.
pissed
off bird still squawking,
but
it’s not insistent
or
grating.
it only
adds to the
serenity.
a car
motors by outside,
windshield
wipers moving
in a
flurry.
my
daughter has walked away
and i
go to search for her.
i find
her standing before
the big
windows in the
family
room,
staring
at the rain
as it
falls from the gutter
overhead,
a waterfall
splashing
against
round rocks in the
bed
behind the house.
she’s
running her fingers
across
the window,
following
the streaking
lines
of water
as they
run down the glass.
she’s
calm,
unconcerned.
just
like the day itself.
at
peace,
with
the worries
of the
world
far
away
and
insignificant.
on a
day like today
only
the now matters,
existing
in this
little corner
of the
world,
where
the rain
falls
down from white clouds,
and the
thunder
tumbles
around overhead,
and a
bird squawks in the branches,
and a
clock
ticks
off the seconds
of this
soon-to-be-gone
peaceful
moment.
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