This settled weather pattern is rain and mist and
drizzle. Reminds me of distant places. A faraway that remains
in the present. But here and now, it is less easy to curse the rain
incase it sulks and wanders off for months and months.
The wife is inclined to ponder sunshine as a
beneficial possibility. She speaks softly to avoid offending the
rain. Her phrases do not contain a single expression that could be
construed as a negative. This is saintly behavior, and I am certain
the bookkeeper is busily placing gold stars beside her name.
My own behavior will be less appreciated. For this
I blame history. I have lived in places where rain has no sensitivity
whatsoever. It shuffles in, remains rude and thoughtless for months at
a time, and when it moves on, it leaves a wake of endless clouds that sit in
arm chairs sleeping. And I have lived in a land where rain would
sometimes wait a year or more before bringing sickness to a broken drought.
But this morning, as I cursed the rain, I saw on the
electric line a bedraggled bird with a long tail. Not a regular in
these parts. Good or bad I will call him an omen and I do hope to see