Don’t you love rain pitter-pattering on a tin roof? It’s consistent one moment and irregular the next. Back and forth as if it can’t make up its mind what to be. Strong or soft? Diagonal or vertical? Despite it’s flighty decisions it’s lovely all the same as I sink deeper in my bed and pull the blanket around my neck. It makes me concentrate on one sound thing, instead of twenty that are fighting for prominence. It’s my way of stopping and listening. What’s it saying in its fierceness? What’s it saying in its quietness? It cools the earth down. It cools my head down. Steady now, softly does it.