Thursday, October 06, 2005

Gentle Rain

Gentle rain is very calming. It's overcast now and the downspouts empty their contents in a stream. The stream is steady now. There is no noise outside but the gentle rain. A distant dog barks. I hear him no more. I'm feeling sleepy.

I'm in this black wood framed chair. It rocks me gently, slightly. It could put me to sleep like a baby in his mother's arms. This iBook is warm in my lap. My palms rest on the eggshell colored support near the keyboard.

I can click on the browser and be anywhere in an instant, but I wont, I don't. I want to be right here. In the moment, spewing text from this machine and posting it out to the world. What contentment. An umbilical connection to my friends, regardless of their location. I can communicate easily, quickly, or even not at all. Umbilical connection. This is why the blog is so popular. It goes back to connections. Connections with friends. Friends that may be very far away, but still connections.

And so I type and not sleep like my body tells me I should. The rain falls gently. The shutters are drawn like eye lids over windows of the soul. The sounds of the keyboard are all I hear. And I rock ever so gently. Eyes closing now, then they force themselves open to finish this post. What's a post without the final signature and quote? It's no post at all. And so I close. Close this post for sleep. Sleep induced by gentle rain.

"'I love walking in the rain, 'cause then no-one knows im crying'" -Anonymous