Written this morning

I just get to work as the first spits of rain are falling from the feathery clouds drifting in the cold blue morning sky.
Now sitting at my desk I'm listening to the splats of raindrops on my office window, to the trickling of water running along the balcony. The half blue sky is now blanketed in grey.
I press my hands on the window glass and feel the icyness of the morning still there. It makes me hanker for winter and bed, and reminds me of holidays in colder places than this.
The steady rhythm of the rain-shower is punctuated by the sounds of the crimson rosellas flying across from the park to hide in the eucalypt out the front of the Library. I can still see blue sky and fluffy clouds east on the horizon.
And when I walk to the kitchen to get my morning cup of tea and look south, there is a most amazing rainbow arcing over the tall shiny greys of the business district.

That is all.