rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,

First Rain

In the grey dawn, the clouds settled on the town and swirled like filmy curtains, opening and closing. Through the fig, the treetops seemed as insubstantial as puffs of smoke. All day, I slept to the sound of water dripping from the leaves, provoking dreams of walking wet paths, catching glimpses of squirrels and raccoons scampering across beds of freshly strewn pine needles.

Awaking to an afternoon of slate sky and intermittent noyades of colorful leaves, I went about the town on autumn's glittering carpet, listening to the rush of freshened streams. Late, the clouds broke in the west, revealing patches of blue framed in silver and white, and sunlight at last streamed through to set the red and green and golden trees aglow, and turn the wet pavements to bright mirrors, reflecting woods and clouds and sky.

Trunks and boughs, dark and shiny with rain, are now revealed behind thinned screens of leaves, like an emerging palimpsest of winter's stark arboreal calligraphy. Darkness falls, and the ravelled message is veiled until another day. Concealed in starless night, all the wet woodland stirs in the cool breeze, and whispers, and hums.

  • Reset Twenty-One, Day Thirty-One

    Monday didn't get particularly smoky here, but by afternoon we could see the enormous pyrocumulus clouds hanging over the mountains. Reports say the…

  • Reset Twenty-One, Day Thirty

    Sunday morning I actually did manage to get to sleep before the sun came up, and then slept with only a couple of interruptions until about half past…

  • Reset Twenty-One, Day Twenty-Nine

    Saturday morning when I went to bed the light leaking around the window shades seemed dimmer than usual. I looked outside and the sky was overcast,…

  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.