The moon was like a giant copper penny in last night's sky, after the rain had come, clouds clinging to its craters against a red backdrop. With those kind of rains it suddenly makes sense why the Ark was built. It was the kind of rain that made my hair curly and my mind sleepy. The gray smudged sky, the ground running a muck with mud and streams of water.
The type of grass the the puppy hates to walk in. So instead we curled up together, his soft brown head resting on our laps as we attempted to stay warm and dry inside, and make light of the night that surrounded us.