The rain has started with a quietness so warm and calming that the tree throws its back into the gentle wind and feels the wetness rushing down its bark.
It allows the drips to slip through its branches between bud and newly formed leaf soaking down through the dusty dirt surrounding its trunk and flow deep deep down to the thirsty straws of its roots.
Throwing away all safety advice I stand with one hand on the treeβs wet bark and the other out and up allowing the drips to slip through my fingers between the rings of our newly formed union soaking down through my clothes surrounding my skin and flow deep deep down to the healing place of my soul.
And if my sighs of contentment and renewed strength were not so loud, you could have heard the treeβs.