The rain comes every day. Sometimes it pitter patters on the church's tin roof in the early afternoon as we wrap up class; other times it waits to explode after dark in the shadows when it becomes nothing more than a great noise, its shape filled by imagination as we toss and turn on our beds, mats, floors. It's one of my favorite times of day - the heat breaks, the world slows down, the mind takes time to rest. Sometimes we play in it - filling buckets to toss on one another