By breakfast the rain gauge beside the flowerbed had already slid a pine-needle ruler to the first drop of the morning. The drop marked its height, nodded to the daisy, and sat on a single tick as if that were a reserved seat.
We asked at the kiosk across the path. "Three of them took turns," said a woman with a paper bag of rolls. "Nobody crowded. It was the politest weather I have seen all week."
The park keeper left a note on the stake: please let the drop finish measuring before you glance at the numbers. By tea the glass is quiet again, and the daisy still holds the attendance in its petals.