The day is young.
The wind is still.
The neighborhoods quiet.
The sky is thick and darkly heavy.
There's cold as of ice within and out
The feet that set out returned in haste.
The clothes on the rope keep swinging.
Fowls and goats and dogs all begin to run helter skelter.
Suddenly there is sound of little little stones on my zinc rooftop like children playing with sand.
It is the sound of rain,like the August rain.
It is still early in the morning and it's raining.