The circle of life is more like a slinky, a long, joined combination of circles stretching out and bouncing back and reaching out and drawing back and springing forward.
The rain is decorating the roof in soft uneven cat paws of rhythm. The day is gray with a low mist hugging the ground, bouncing back from the earth to decorate the grass with damp. It's cold. Evidenced by the steamy puffs escaping from neighborhood dryer vents and attic exhaust. Crows sit hunched on posts and branches, periodically ruffling feathers to shed the damp.
Hace Williams is a Seattle area author and journalist.