(in single syllables)
This much I know is true, he said. The rain falls, and the rain stops – at some point. It can’t rain all day and all night. It just can’t.
I don’t know, I said. It just might. And what then? What do we do then?
He shook his head, pursed his lips. Build a boat, I guess.
I laughed, then saw that he did not laugh with me. He meant it.
No, I said. Can’t be!
You said it! he flung out. You said, It just might.
He saw the look on my face, and sighed. I’ve oak stored in the barn. And pine. I have the plans to build a boat. We may as well get to work.
He turned and walked to the barn. I stood stock still, then I too went to the barn.
The rain did not cease. The sun rose, the sun set, but day or night, it rained. The rain fell, the streams were in flood, the lake spilled out of its bowl – and we built a boat. The two of us.
We built a boat, strong and wide. We could take the horse with us on this boat. And the cow, if we wished. A small house with a green roof, and a red deck. More a barge than a boat, but it would float. Where we would go, we did not know, but we could be dry and warm with a small wood stove on board.
Times had changed. Times were strange. The rain would not cease.
