A still moment.

This quiet evening, just as darkness swallows up what remains of a long, grey afternoon, I stand by the open window looking out over the garden and into the forest beyond.

A profound silence engulfs the world, a silence challenged and made obvious by the sound of soft, persistent rain hissing through the leaves of the trees closest to the house. 

Has it been raining forever? Cold rain falling through warm air that might turn smaragdine in the moonlight if there were lightning. 

Fugacious mist thins and thickens, always on the move. I know the future lies out there, waiting, somewhere in the chaos of uncertain melancholy. From deep inside the house the chime of my grandfather’s grandfather clock confirms that time has either stood still or not.