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 Nineteen, Day Ten

    Friday I managed to wake up not long after two o'clock, so the evening was not too short. It remained balmy outside for a while, and I sat under the…

  • Reset Nineteen, Day Nine

    Sleep went erratic again and I didn't get out of bed until four o'clock Thursday afternoon. At least my body got out of bed, and though my brain must…

  • Reset Nineteen, Day Eight

    There was spaghetti (well, angel hair to be precise) for dinner Wednesday, and I'm happy to say that so far the marinara sauce has not brought on any…

  • 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.