Slice #7

I sit by the window and watch the dark clouds.  Waiting.  The tree stands with it's branches touching the blackened sky.  Waiting.  There are no birds to be seen.  All of them are tucked away safe and warm.  They are waiting.  The grasses fold over in the wind, leaning up towards the sky.  Waiting.  The world holds its breath as it waits for the rain to fall.  Late in the morning it does.  First just a gentle drizzle but soon it starts to pour.  It is perfect.