wednesday, my inspiration.

The most vibrant sound in the room is one that can either soothe or distress.
The wick is almost at its end, but fights for dear life, throwing its light from side to side and forcing itself to be heard and not forgotten.

At times it competes with the screaming thunder, but its benefit is its consistency –
laying a raspy baseline throughout the room.

The puppy is confused. He looks up from his sleepy state on the newly carpeted floor, searching for the source of the hissing and buzzing.

The thunder stops and the rain begins; the wick seems to play in harmony with the pitter patter. Occasionally birds add a verse, bringing the illumination of spring.

The girl sits on the couch drinking it all in.

She sits in her cushy sweats wine in hand, after removing her corporate attire. She sits with fragrant food in the crockpot, waiting for husband to arrive home. She sits on her immaculate couch, admiring her new rug. She sits oblivious of how thankful she should be of nearly everything around her.

She sits in silence.

She allows herself the peace and rest and lack of distractions that are so hard to come by. She doesn’t feel the need to turn on the radio, or the tv, or grab her magazines.

She sits in silence.

And then the hail begins.