Soft
The rain is softening the day. Blurring the colors, wet-into-wet. Whispering on the roof. The distance is gray mist and the moments feel like watery dreams. The light is pale, unfixed in time. It could be morning or evening, or anything in-between. I feel tired. I don’t feel tired. A quiet agitation is in me — but rain just continues. Sighing, smoothing…softening.