Night Rain
It is mostly a whisper. Water sighing through the air in the darkness. Cooling just a little. Bringing that scent.
When it was light, I took a picture of a rose in the yard. It still seems almost surreal in its perfection. I imagine it wet now, swaying in shadows as droplets fall.
The sound of the rain surges. Harder now, in the deep night. Rushing, while everything else is quiet. I look at my hands on the keyboard. They are pale in the monitor’s glow.
Thunder shudders distantly. I think of petals unfolding in darkness, colors under night rain. I dream of sleep.
And a bloom.