This Morning is Gray Wet

Fat raindrops

Loud, lazy rain

Like a gruff, too-old-for-this-shit individual, as they, too large to easily slip through the crowd, loudly shoulder and arm-bump their way downtown through the otherwise minding-their-own-business clusters of people waiting for their bus, and individuals briskly but nochalantly striding with a faraway look in their eyes - almost to the office or to a meeting with someone from an office

Heavily reluctant in a way that's physically visible, but still proudly present, the door loudly latches behind them after swinging shut, one-arm pushed closed with an effort a few levels below what one could definitely categorize as a slam. Other persons encountered receive eye contact and an unsmiling, but not rude, good morning greeting as they stomp-walk to their personal office in the back of the corporate shared working space, the flooring trembling and desk trinkets rattling as they pass. You gotta do what you gotta do.

Crows cawing outside, 2 or 3-always 2 or 3, right? sometimes 4, but never more, unless theres an issue or reason for riling

Haven woke up around the same time I did at 630am. Every time i woke up in the night he was uncovered for some reason, but would struggle against the down feather comforter (without cover, so it's a stiffer, cold, sweat-inducing kind of a covering) I draped over him, sharing it. Once our combined body heat sank in, though, he quickly quieted and stilled his squirmy-weak thrashy sleepy protest dance. I remember a few times, 2 or 3 maybe, when I woke, I lightly stroked his forehead hairs and down to his cheek, kissed him, and told him I loved him. I also sought out his sweet baby feet under the blankets and would entirely hold one in my hand, gripping it from sole to the top of his foot.

He said, eyes closed, in a kind of panicked whine: mama, tags in room?!? He was kicking a bit and his arms were pawing and grabbing different parts of the edge of his blanket, searching for his tags