Moisture

Wake, yesterday, at dawn / first light to hear birdsong, a rare sound to discern in Woodstock, and one of my great regrets of living here; then the feint sound, almost soundless like the blood pulsing through your ears, of lightly falling rain.

05h30.

Lie still with eyes closed listening to it rainfall, in this moment, now, it is wet and nothing else is of concern.

Every now and then a car will squelch across tarmac down below on Albert Road. 

So grateful it's a Sunday, that I can relax / immerse myself into this. Thank you God. I take a picture from my bedroom window towards the harbour, impossible to see it's giraffe cranes, nor Robben Island. Nor The Mountain. 

The drops falls harder now... I don't want this moment to end. Especially since we are at the start of what headlines have described as a long, hot summer. We're a winter rainfall region experiencing the harshest drought ever. 

Rain. I soak up the moisture, the calm, the quiet.