It is raining this morning. The sky and sea are close shades of the same gray. Leaden drops beat a solemn cadence on roof tiles. Random leaves on rose bushes twitch and jerk as they shake off direct hits. Yesterday’s lizards are holed up in the undergrowth. Somewhere the gulls an pelicans have gone to the sand to wait out the rain. I take my coffee to the patio to watch a squirrel climb a palm trunk, climb back down, try a second trunk, a third, moving listlessly as though deciding what to do on such a morning.
I, too, feel listless. There’s much that needs doing, more words to be strung. Instead of moving into the day, I sit here watching it rain and telling you about it as though you’ve never seen rain. I don’t see the squirrel now. It must have abandoned it search for inspiration and tucked itself among the fronds.
Eventually the rain will stop. Girls in swimsuits will go back to the beach. Butterflies will bloom again among the flowers in the courtyard. Little boys will chase lizards. For now, I refill my cup, try to stop looking out my window, and do my best to turn to work.