The April rain beats down on the roof. It comes in waves, like I’m being gently massaged by expert hands. Not showers but steady persistent wetness. Looking out I am comfortable. My face slumps. I can feel those fingertips caressing my temple. “Relax” the voice says.
The stillness inside contrasts with the constant motion of the hedge outside the window.
Drops convene and race others down the glass. Every one is a winner.