Listening to the Falling Rain

He looks at me with those big brown eyes, and he barks at me.  He looks at me, he looks at the mess in the room I am working on.  He huffs at me, a bark that means go out, but he was out only a short time ago.  Okay buddy I say okay.  I shower first because I am sweaty, dusty and covered in the sticky clingy bits of animal hair and shredded paper that faced me as I sat on the floor.  I decide to go about a quarter of a mile further from home, eyeing the dark clouds.  I wonder if I might have made an error when the wind picks up at the farthest place from home.  I feel a drip on my calf, my shoulder blade, my forearm though I do not see any dark spots on the pavement.  Soon the pavement is covered with the spots.  The dog alerts me to something, I stop and look and see a turkey vulture sitting on a small patch of grass.  I stand and look at it until it flies off into the trees.  I wonder as to its symbolism.  I have not seen one in the city, ever.

I return home and make blueberry pancakes for myself and for the dog.  Then I get ready for bed.  I feel so tired, the emotional reset that always happens to me at the end of a school year.  I close my eyes and listen to the soft rain falling.


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