Dank Grey Day

Day dawned dank grey. Sky pre-washed to ashen, cuddled in. Cats on tippy-toes dipped their toes in puddles stalking prey, huddled to pause, slumbering in. Birds ruffled dew drop spots from feathers, distracted to pause their prattle tattle calls by the gloom of low slung clouds engulfing the din. The dank cupped hands of horizon clouds called for hush in prayer to say grace with the morning gathering, all misted-in in fog. The dewy gossamer mist turned to gentle rain, almost embarrassed to fall with pitter-patter plinks and plops echoing from puddles, leaves and panes. The shower done with its drenching, quenching drizzle, passed overhead and curtain-called the sun to get up, to stand to attention, and to herald the day to get on with its business.