La Pioggia

Today I was sitting by an open window, and the tapping of my computer keys sounded like the pitter-patter of the rain outside.

Something about a rainy day seems to hit the bullseye of my soul.

There is music in the rain--the drumming on a rooftop, the soft crackling as it falls on a pile of autumn leaves, the swish of car tires on wet streets, the plip-plop of raindrops on an umbrella;

it provides a backdrop for color--the grey skies and dark clouds make red raincoats, yellow pansies, a candle in a window, or a blue gazebo appear vibrant and alive;

it softens the hard edges of city life--street lights and shop windows glow and beckon;

and it offers a soothing juxtaposition between the raging storm outside, and the calmness and warmth inside.

La pioggia makes me want to curl up with a book, and so I do. Something from my childhood, something in Italian ... Piccole donne (Little Women).

Il fuoco del caminetto illuminava i visetti

della fanciulle intente al loro lavoro a maglia:

nella stanza vi era una confortante intimita`,

mentre fuori la neve cadeva fitta.