A Ring of Rain Drops

I slipped under the loose screen door again, stepping out into the garden patio. Down near the mossy base of the low brick wall, an upturned tin tart mold was catching the afternoon sun. I paused, wide-eyed, letting out a soft, breathy gasp as the red clothespin on my dress tapped my knee. Slowly... holding my breath, I knelt down. Inside the fluted metal pan lay three tiny, clear rain droplets that hadn't dried yet. With both hands, I gave the scalloped edge a gentle nudge. *Ping-shiver.* The three drops slid together into one trembling silver bead, mirroring the bright autumn sky right on the tin.