Silence in the Night

I wake from slumbers: dreamscapes, warmth.
It is silent.
Almost.

Darkness absorbs me with soft gentleness;
I feel its surrounding blackness:
it is near, but distant;
warm, yet cold;
strong, but weak;
strange, but familiar.

The Silence whispers, uncertainly;
soft breaths beside me;
quiet hums from the kitchen.

I wait, listening
and then, stealthily, as a cat in the blackness, comes the Rain
pattering softly,
tapping loudly,
strumming insistently
as the giant sweeps in from the sea
brutally beating the weatherboards,
hammering the house;
fierce, frightening and furious;
torrents of water descend;
a deafening deluge,
gurgling in gutters,
echoing in downpipes,
overflowing the eaves.

The darkness continues
but Silence hurriedly disappears.