A quiet dawn

It amazes me as I sit here, dawn just beginning to nudge the east awake, how quietly it has crept in and mollifed the skies which raged angrily with storm all night: thunder crashed rudley and lightening lit up my bedroom in neon strobes.  Rain battered down down upon the tin roof in rowdy percussion.

By dawn, though, and there is just the faintest patter of the last drops as they drip from the mango trees outside, politely. As if nothing had happened. Tiptoeing to sleep in the sodden soil – I wonder if they will find room there?

A chorus of birds has begun, I cannot see them, only hear their early morning greetings: I imagine them shaking off damp feathers and chatting animatedly to their neighbours about the rain:”what a night!”, they will exclaim to one another.

The thunder has crept off, a distant ominous rumble now, as if complaining as it is asked to leave by a lightening sky, ”you’ve had your say, now push off”.

My brother once remarked to me, ”why use two hundred words when two will do”.

He’d have said simply, ”good rain last night”.

3 Responses to “A quiet dawn”

  1. Roberta Says:

    Oh! I love those kind of days. I couldn’t have written this better myself. In the spring, just after the snow melts, and the buds start peeping out and turning everything a fresh, frothy green…the rains come.

    There are those first warm days when the breeze smells of mud and something very green…and then the sun hits and we are in full bloom.

    Your winter in Africa sounds like my spring in West Virginia, USA.

  2. R. Sherman Says:

    There is declaration and then there is using words to invite us to where you are. Thanks.


  3. apoetonamotorcycle Says:

    Echo Sherman, you took me back to my own similar experiences in Tanz Anthea. Ahh, I can smell the rain from here.

    No doubt a hypothetical question, but – how many would read dear brother’s blog?

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