Another day of voices, another crowded train. A thousand little questions still running through my brain. I leave the city at the door, but somehow bring it home. I take my tools into the garden — that's where I clear my mind alone. Then raindrops touch the wooden steps, and darken every stone. I raise my old umbrella — I'm not giving up, not yet. One hand holds it above me, one hand tries to work. I stand there for a moment... then laugh at how absurd. So I put the tools away, make some tea and take my place. Just until the rain is gone. Just until I can go on. Rain doesn't talk. Rain doesn't ask. Rain doesn't need an answer from me. It falls on the leaves, it falls on the stones, and asks me simply to let it be. No voice to follow, no words to say. So I sit with my tea... and wait. Steam rises from the cup. Water runs from leaf to leaf. Somewhere between those sounds I finally start to breathe. A thought comes by — then disappears. Another one does the same. I don't know how long I've been here. I don't even check the time again. Rain doesn't talk. Rain doesn't ask. Rain doesn't need an answer from me. No calls to take, no choice to make, no place that I have to be. It keeps on falling. Nothing has changed. I'm still sitting here... but I'm not quite the same. The rain didn't get quieter. I did. I came here waiting for the clouds to pass. Somewhere along the way... I forgot to wait. Rain doesn't talk. Rain doesn't ask. Rain doesn't need an answer from me. Let it touch the garden. Let it darken the stones. There's nowhere else I need to be. The work can wait. The world can wait. For once, I don't have to. Still raining... Good.
