as asleep I lay, I woke to the sound of thunder. loud clang-bash-rumbling the walls of my lonely room. that is when I heard the sweet pitter-patter of rain drops, playing their own drums, at their own tune. I swiftly shuffled out of my bed to find something to calm my awakening hunger. hunger which had turned into sudden thirst. heating the water-then to set on the stove. small clicking and rumbling came from the stove top. I went to the window to witness a gray lonely storm. the timing of the thunder, going along with the rain-almost symphonic in a way-moving in the wind. I smell damp dirt, see gray skies.---Suddenly the *** begins to boil and a calm alarming whistle came from the spout. I ripped open a package to find a sweet smelling teabag. The lemon grass zing-mixed with the muzzled windy-rain. almost perfect. calmly I sat, waiting for the mug to cool down-too extreme to touch it now. closing my eyes I sit hearing the storm and almost smelling the world for the first time. sweet life is, in my moment of Zen. helping my thirst with a sip of Zen.