~Thought For The Day~Descent ©

     It is late into the night. From inside, I hear it softly beckoning me.

As I slowly wrap my legs around the railing of the front porch, I can feel it gently, but so steadily, dancing upon my bare feet.

It is a cleansing, not just of the body, but of the heart and mind.

The wind sways, and as the wind chimes so delicately move in rhythm, I feel the light brush on my legs as the heavens are pouring down to me.

The sky is dark, but so vibrant. The world is seemingly asleep, the crickets singing all around. Did they perhaps do a united dance?

Did they feel my inner self summon to be purged?

They sound merry and filled with complete joy. I wish I could sing along, because in some strange way I feel them. I understand, and we connect.

The light from the porch serves as a beacon, and as it shines I see sweet glimpses of illumination into this darkness.

A once gray rock now glistens like a treasured jewel, the petals of the evergreen now dampened and with a majestic glow.

The choir continues to chirp, the breeze tickling my face and my hair begins to spiral in its soothing sway.

Ah, hello, Mr. Frog, this is your kind of weather, indeed. I can’t see him, but he lets me know he is near.

The pitter patter begins to drum louder, the wind serving as its faithful conductor.

My bare feet and soul are drenched, and I feel my body relax, giving into this remedy being served to me.

In the distance, I hear the faint call of the hoot owl, how does he fare?

Does he bare his ankles and resolve to find himself in a better state?

I should think so.

I feel alive, I feel at home.

I must leave my seat and parade into the feathery grass.

I want to drink it all in.

The night, the rain, everything so beautifully is becoming one.

This is the cleansing of my soul, as far back as my youth, a renewal of the girl, the calming of the woman.

Finding my position again, nestled upon the overhang, I feel in awe. It’s the perfect smell, the tingle of my skin, and the washing away of every care, every sin, at last.

In the morning when I rise, I will be new, I will be clean, and I will be me.

Good night to the choir as they huddle in to rest.

I bid you adieu hoot owl, warm wishes to you. Mr. Frog, I blow to you a tender kiss as I depart.

Throwing open my window before I casually cover my moistened skin, drifting off to a cozy slumber as the rain sings me softly to sleep.

It’s one of my favorite things in this world, the simple act of rain.

 It is a part of me. 

© 

Teresa Hardister