JUNE 1, 2026

Monday Morning, 10 a.m. I lie in bed and watch the trees sway.

I hear the sounds of life, but they are miles away. I hear the raindrops beating on the rooftops like a cane.

The house is quiet. The room is dark. Yet I am happy, elated for reasons unknown.

Outside my balcony, I see the windbreaker trees dance to the ancient drums of life and rain. Beyond them, the beautiful Pwabara Hills, decked in green the colour of the season look heavenward. grateful for the rains, just as they have done for years and years before.

I listen to the silence. waiting for the voice of God, waiting for my muse,

But neither comes today. Only the comforting sound of raindrops and the contented rumble of thunder.