Rain . . . Softly falling down . . . each drop a symphony of sound . . .
Perched upon a tree in sway The sky was turning evening grey As it turned day In the silent hush
There it was again, the sound of fury Echoing from the vast paddy field and Pierced into my ears like
Waking at five or so to white sky and various bird beginnings from exhausting dreams of past emotional encounters I
