Rain on the Iron Roof: The barn at the field's edge in a long, soft storm

Edwin Marsh

You settle into a worn barn at the edge of a field while rain gathers and falls on corrugated iron above you. Rowan Whitmore's voice moves slowly, mapping each chapter across the storm's unfolding: the particular rhythm water finds on metal, how your shoulders release when you recognize shelter, the hour of waiting before clouds break, the corner you choose for your back against the wall. You will notice the smell of old wood deepening, wet stone cooling, the small ritual of a warm drink passed hand to hand. The sound is steady rain, distant wind in grass, occasional shifts in the roof's voice as the storm moves. Nothing asks you to solve anything. Let the iron sing you still.