I watch the night sky on a rainy spring night-
Clouds moving like ghosts across the sky.
The sound of the rain heavy on the branches of the pines
with a breeze stirring and whooshing, whooshing through the pine trees.
Distant sounds of traffic heard but here in this tiny corner of my world,
the night is magical.
The sound of frogs, becomes a singular tone.
The breeze stirs and grows stronger as if someone silently flies past then stops.
The branches silhouetted against the sky,
The moistness of the air surrounds me
Cool, cool on my skin.