I couldn’t stop the rain, that heavy rain. It began deep in the night and it fell and fell. Just before the dawn you turned off the room fan so that I could listen more deeply.
February rains; how odd and disconcerting for it feels we are in March or April but I know I am in February and the gutters are full and filling up again and again and draining out and spilling over.
You left early for an appointment.
I lit a red candle, placed it on the night stand and crawled back into bed with a book and a pile of plumped up cushions.
But my thoughts are elsewhere as it rains and flows and soaks. Something is amiss when it pours in the month of hearts…
690 Saint Paul 