now is a happier time.

enya suits the weather, i have put it on.
don't you think there's something so magical--mystical almost--about what it conjures up.
somewhere beyond the mist, something like that.

here is a depressing fitzgerald poem, involving rain
(though come to think of it most of his poems involve rain or at least water)

RAIN BEFORE DAWN

The dull, faint patter in the drooping hours
Drifts in upon my sleep and fills my hair
With damp; the burden of the heavy air
Is strewn upon me where my tired soul cowers,
Shrinking like some lone queen in empty towers
Dying. Blind with unrest I grow aware:
The pounding of broad wings drifts down the stair
And sates me like the heavy scent of flowers.

I lie upon my heart. My eyes like hands
Grip at the soggy pillow. Now the dawn
Tears from her wetted breast the splattered blouse
Of night; lead-eyed and moist she straggles o'er the lawn,
Between the curtains brooding stares and stands
Like some drenched swimmer -- Death's within the house!



actually i think the last bit is very strange. the exclamation mark, and capital letter.
it's almost funny (or is it just me).