Midnight's Song

It's raining outside, a subtle tap-tap-tapping on my roof.
I can hear the drips falling off the gutters,
puddling up,
waiting to pounce on my Sunday shoes tomorrow.
Earlier the thunder was rolling
as lights from heaven danced across the sky.

Upstairs the wee ones are sleeping;
little heads nestled into pillows
and feet sticking out the bottom of blankets.
The boy is breathing slow and steady -
whish whoosh sigh -
while the girl adds her more stacatto sounding snore to the mix.
The shadows of the street lights play across their faces
as they sleep soundly unaware
of the rain's falling lullaby.