An Afternoon Drizzle

Storm clouds pass over my house, leaving a light rain to drizzle onto my dry, patchy lawn. The northwest corner of lawn has died, but the rest of the lawn is lush and vibrant, providing varying shades of yellow and green. The leaves on the teenaged tree out front have change hue to a deep purple, my favorite color. Our neighborhood does not have squirrels, but I hope in 20 year's time this tree will be a great home for them to climb.

Within 15 minutes, the rain clouds move east, carrying their moisture toward Kansas. The gray sky allows the roses to glow, their hot pink buds stealing attention from the modest succulents in front of them.

The tall grass that lines the cul-de-sac bends in the light breeze, rising back up stiffly between currents. A single robin flies north, up the street. A great flock came early this morning, hundreds of blackbirds perched on my neighbor's house. As the majority of the flock lifted up and continued to fly, a few birds continued to rest on their roof.

Would I be the bird who continues flying west? Or would I sit on the roof and continue to rest?