Late August rain. Nowhere to go. Much to do. Very little initiative to do anything. Drip, drip, drip. Rain knocks on the roof. Drops splatter on the ground. Rivulets run down the windows. Grey surrounds everything. Light is strained. An eight o'clock look to everything. Not sure whether morning or evening. Lights will not be turned on. Quiet broken by the refrigerator motor. Cars grow, splash, and fade. Tic toc tic says the clock. Clickety-click says the keyboard. Cats sleep. Rain is needed. Drought is killing the reservoirs. Rain feeds boredom. Longing for yesterday's sun. Summer fades. Winter comes on nigh. Nature begins to close shop, pulling down the shutters halfway. Please, may I buy one last warm day? I won't be long. Go right ahead, I'll wait for you. The forecast says sun day after tomorrow.