Evening After Rain

As it is,
I only ever feel so sane
in the quiet hours
of an evening after rain.
There is a stillness there,
in that gentle place.
Where time is generous,
and things move without haste.
In those naked moments,
I am vulnerable and open.
Like how I imagine my father was
before his illness took him.
The skies ,too, are like a deathbed;
where crashing thunder lay
to be well rested.
Much alike how
the sound of slamming doors in day
give way
to the quiet hour of an evening after rain.