It is pitch dark outside and all I can hear are those strange cricket sounds, totally nocturnal. The rain, it seems as though it is out somewhere on a short break right now, the pretty hard day that it has had and has given the people of this town. No surprise if it returns any time soon to swing it with the winds, well all over again to bring some more melancholy around. As I am typing this the windows of this room are practically rattling like someone has given them the worst shock of their life. And me the poor little bird that I claim to be is courageously sitting inside, like there is no place safer than her nest.
Speaking of real birds, where do they fly and stay during such thunderstorms? In such weather I would be half dead on the ground! I know this sounds crazy but what I am thinking right now is how many of their eggs would have fallen off the nest? How many of their friends would not have come flying back home? Or at the least how many of them would have caught a cold? All my questions aside, I am pretty sure that I will be listening to their tunes tomorrow morning, louder and fresher. After the heavy pitter patter all night such strength, positivity and hope I guess that makes what we usually fail to see, life’s little miracles. To move on, to wake up everyday to live.