Love is like a little bird on a rainy day; it finds shelter in a tiny nook carved in the grand design of a building or formed in a tree by the arrangement of leaves and cloistered branches; it remains well out of our sight for we care little about dusty nooks in brick walls or tiny gaps under eaves when the sky comes pouring down and forces us into our own big shelters built of cement and stone, or the foliage in the garden that we had carefully pruned and grown. The birdie shows up, and sings a sweet love song at our windowsill once the rain is gone and the sun is out... but it is not the little bird on a rainy day anymore.