A ceremony of rain is about to occur, we rejoice, heaven-sent grief and heartache and the little black bishop birds all scurry about as if in some extravagant play, their little costumes and tiny feet in hurried anticipation, a graceful tree watches and a gleeful newborn droplet blackens the chalky sidewalk, then another and another and another...ghostly dots and shapes appear like quiet faces in a theater, freckles and paint splotches, then another and another...
