I
t’s black outside – mostly – except for the faint sparkling of a flood light on a neighbor’s barn. Water drips down the window and I hear the barren tree branches blowing close by. Little depth can be seen, though I know if it were a full moon, I’d be able to see far across fields and into the spacious starlit skies.
Dim lights of a car briefly lightens up the lonely road as it passes by, giving a glimpse of pools of water in our yard and a few scattered corn stalks across the street. And it goes black again, only hearing the rain and imagining dawn coming soon and my warm bed calling me.
Writing Canvas 
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