There is something affecting about the calm after a storm. The air lies thickly spread, still pregnant with the tension that has just retired, the occasional dribble continuing to fall in flux. The rain has cooled the steaming earth, bathing it in a cloudy mist that both relieves and obscures. A hint of lilac permeates the room, a welcomed reminder of the fragrant lush swelling with life beyond the window frame. There is an intangible romance that eludes explanation, the feeling of a distinct sentimental acuteness that is rooted in some nostalgic vagary. An irrepressible desire to lie in languid sprawl with you and listen to the delicate cadence of drops as they fall in tempo with nature’s whim.
Contentedness flows in our veins tonight, and we pause to drink in all that is right with our world; outward comforts melded with internal satisfaction, we wonder why it isn't our instinctive propensity to always be so at ease with the universe. Is pure distilled happiness so fleeting that it comes and goes with the sun’s rotation, existing only for brief moments between the accelerated pace of daily routines? We have become more aware of these luscious pauses, reveling at how refreshed we feel, how appreciative we are of those that have the power to bestow upon us these gorgeous moments of clarity and complacency.
I sit alone with my thoughts tonight and listen to the subtle movement of the outside world, the slender sound of the deluge as it descends, and wonder if you can hear it too. I wonder if, for whatever reason, it makes you think of me.
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