Laying outside on the old green hammock, I hear the soft rustle of the tree near by. Listening as the cool, crisp wind flows through the branches and the leaves, making the sound of a soft, silent rain. My eyes slightly close as if sung to sleep by the sounds of nature. By the songs of the birds, and the breeze of the wind, I lay on the hammock asleep. Dreams of raindrops falling from blackened clouds, the whistle of a cooling breeze, and birds singing silently as they hide among the soakened leaves. Then the light blue skies, the golden rays of the warm sun, drops of water falling from the trees and dropping upon the wet grass, and birds flying high in the sky. I wake slowly, but still hearing the rustle of the trees and the whistle of the wind, and imaginating the soft, silent rain.