the first night i've stayed up until dawn. i was awake when it started...the relationship between the ground and the sky. soil gets spots, i know even in the dark, until the map of lone states of fluid grow into an ocean that plants roots that grab into the ground. when it rains it get darker, the night sky with no stars and no moon. and as the ground soaks up liquid cloud it grows darker. the bark of the trees and the skins of the roots stain with moisture. the wind rushing like carts following the chugging belly of the train. not raindrops but avalanches of water ricocheting upwards off the roof and plummeting to fill the thirsty earth or form puddles on geometrically shaped rocks. they either disappear into the darkness of soil or create waves in the growing puddle. and as the storm slows down to a patter of footsteps, tree leaves and ivy leaves drip content and tired. saturated black bark drips rhythmically and quickly, passing water from the top of the thick trunk to the roots the hide dormant underneath.
i heard the first morning dove cooing, the birds twittering in the morning. when the rain stops the earth heaves and the clouds sigh. the sun came up behind the clouds. i didn't see it but it still rose.