Day of Rain

Give me a day of rain-- a day that's gray as a pigeon's breast, a sky that hangs still, as if holding its breath. Inhale as a drizzle begins to form; a fine, salted mist, like ocean spray, that suffuses the gray with life's soft elixir. Watch, as the mist turns over to pattering droplets, splashing on the porch like tiny, watery missiles. Listen from inside the glow of the kitchen as the drops become torrents, beating on the roof, slashing against the windowpane. Curl in the chair, enfolded in a knitted afghan, head cradled in a down pillow. Let eyelids slide closed to the thrumming of blessed rain, and float away on rushing rivulets to the sea.