24/07/365
in everything there is music
the rustle of sheets as your body stirs in the morning
the piping whistle of the tea kettle
the turn of book pages
prayers whispered through chapped lips
the click-clack of computer keys after dark
bits of song lyrics confined just outside of your consciousness
the hushed passing of cars in the street
the rhythmic tapping of raindrops on your windowpane
squirrels scampering about the pine trees
the warm purr of your cat curled up at your feet
the soft tread of socked feet on the tile floor
the desperate pleas exhaled to God when all strength is lost
the splash of day-old coffee in the kitchen sink
in everything there is music
Rain
Thunder murmured softly outside.
The first few drops of rain hitting the window with an even softer tap.
The whisper of thunder blooming across the horizon,
more like a purr than everlasting clap.
Soft flashes of lightning danced like dolphins,
amung silver tinted clouds.
Gentle flurries of wind playfully chase one another,
coiling together like fox pups.
The rain hushes softly to the trees who rattle their leaves,
and flattens the chattering crickets in the grasses,
while the foxes push clouds further.
Until the rain movs on, leaving the world too loud and the sun too bright.