Sweetly does the rain Sing against my window, As it stirs the lavender That caresses my nose, Growing beneath my window as My mother planted it there to do. Wary do I grow of counting the Lines, Groves, And cracks in my ever changing ceiling. I try making out images instead of counting, Lacking creativity all I can see is White, Frooved Clouds.
Dusk is capturing the world now and The rain has finished it’s melody, The insects and frogs Take the stage and Somewhere in the distance Is the cry of a lone hawk, Maybe feeling left out of the insects and frogs Choirs as, He cries His sad Song.
Pondering as to what the Hawk’s story is And as I ponder I begin to hum A soft melody keeping time With the frogs and insects, Maybe I am feeling left Out like the hawk?
A breeze joins in, String up the glories Smell of lavender again And cooling my face as it Comes through the open window I slowly drift Off To Sleep... ...zzz