In the silence, I hear raindrops, and crows, and the swaying of trees, and tires wading through puddles. And with this light, I see raindrops clinging to a window. Now and then one drop slides down the glass, leaving a trail of its self. And others follow. From one to many, and many to one, we come together and split apart these moments of morning. The light outside is gray and cool, and its cozy with my sweater on. We too are together in silent worship, like raindrops on this window.