The rain falls heavily, slopping into the mud with the sound of oatmeal; the sky is white, the silhouettes of crows painted against it; all of us bird and beast and human retreat back into the comfort of our dens and burrows and wait and watch. It’s the last day of the Thanksgiving break and I’m grasping at time, needing change, happy for the quiet and yearning for more of it in the future.