Rains are blessings. Steaming shrouds of cloud coil and writhe. We rushed next door to the other part of the center and to the back of the building, into the baby room, which was designated for dangerous, but not fatal, situations. I glanced out the window again. The words should get more complex also.
The clouds oblige and rain descends in little gleam-drops of silver. There is not a more relaxing atmosphere than a cozy house while a light thunderstorm passes overhead. The thunder and lighting stopped crashing. It is public enemy number one.