I sit on my porch, a Saturday early evening on the Eastside. The rains murmur a hazy sprinkle against the awning over me. I look up, holes pierce the vinyl like starlight in the night; I watch the constellation of holes increase. Still here I sit, hugging the receding dry spot of wooden porch shortly after the storm that passed. The earth is soaked with this harvest of rains today; the pungent vapors escape the plants drinking their feast.
and thenI finally yield to the rainy day. I grab my coffee cup that has begun to catch the drops from the constellation above. I head inside.
~Journal Entry, current book~