rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,


The new roses took a beating from that hail. Diagonal streaks hit the street and bounced. Whipped leaves tried to flee the wind, but only the flower petals let go and fell, flecking the whitened road verge with pink. It was over in minutes. The hail melted as quickly as it had fallen. Acorn woodpeckers left the shelter of the telephone pole to which they had been clinging, and brightening clouds filled the sudden pools of water with sky light.

It's been happening all afternoon. It will probably happen all night, and tomorrow, and Tuesday, and maybe Wednesday as well. Something disapproves of spring.

Sunday Verse

The torn cloud, the rainbow...

by Antonio Machado

The torn cloud, the rainbow
now gleaming in the sky,
and the fields enveloped
in a beacon of rain and sun.
I woke. Who is confounding
the magic crystal glass of my dream?
My heart was beating
aghast and bewildered.
The lemon grove in blossom,
cypresses in the orchard,
the green meadow, the sun, water, rainbow,
the water in your hair!
And all in my memory was lost
like a soap bubble in the wind.

—translated by Willis Barnstone

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