An Ode to a Drizzly Morning

I like this weather.

I'm standing outside my front door. The sky is gray, but the hazy burn of the sun is still visible. Drops fall, enough to make a pleasant noise, leaving the world damp. Rocks that are normally gray now look dark and glossy, like polished marble. Glassy wet. The flowers lining my walk tremble from tiny drops that fall from trees above them. I like watching beads of water slide down the curve of leaves, and the way the water hangs at their pointed tips. I'm watching one, wondering how long it'll take before it gives up and falls. And there it goes! I counted to twenty-four before it lost itself to gravity. But it fell too fast for my eyes to follow, and I didn't see where it landed. Such a pretty world.