Wet birds, singing

It rained all day and all night. Constantly.

"... the same day were all the fountains of the great deep broken up , and the windows of heaven were opened. And the waters prevailed, and were increased greatly upon the earth;"

So much of Noah's Flood. But even here it came to pass that after twenty four hours of heavy rain, dawn came and the birds started twittering and singing.

Wet and soaked they were, damp, moist, dank, humid, sodden, saturated, sopping, but their voices loud as ever, rain or no rain.

I said to myself - do as the birds. Their song never wanes.

This blog was started in absolute emptiness. Six months it persisted as a monologue, a soliloquy, an exercise in loneliness and silence.

Now the loneliness is gone and the silence broken. But the blog will continue in its solitary ways. Because it was conceived as an inward stream, flowing in the dark.

It could revert to quietness.

Or, as the drenched birds, it may sing, come rain or come shine.