It is morning here, and I have been awake most of the night, except for a short sleep of about 3 hours.
Sat in front of my computer, facing the window to one side of the screen, I can see the mauve-grey skies and see the shadowy green of the trees opposite.
Rain, smooth and soft and steady, slithers down the velvet heavens, drenching the soil.
The wind rustles leaf and branch, not violently but restively; the raindrops pitter on the ground, and water gushes down drainpipes. A sopping, flowing symphony of soft water from above, dark in colour, light in tone.
Morning rains.
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