One Thousand Raindrops

I sit outside at morning twilight and listen to a thousand raindrops.  It’s quiet, except for the raindrops…and the wind (I think).  But, wait, there is no wind, no movement in the treetops. Is it, then, the lake, its waves?  No.  That underlying roar is raindrops hitting a thousand roofs.  One thousand raindrops each upon a thousand rooftops while humans mostly sleep.  Good morning.