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?