I pry open a single blind on the shutter to watch the rain drops fall on the leaves before me.
Then I realize: no one else has ever experienced this exact moment. No one else ever will: it is wholly singular.
The angle of the rain as it slants towards the house. The expanse of marbled, grey skies. The soft curvature of the leaves.
The tiny pools of water collecting under them, holding steadfast until at last succumbing to the pull of gravity.
This present moment of experience is infinite, and it is mine.
The tiny miracles of the every day