geegaw.com
29.3.5
Three inches of rain yesterday, breaking the almanac's record, and I still can't remember to use an umbrella, having come here from Seattle where the rain falls in quanta of daily half-inches and last night's haul would be considered a flood. The rain soaked through my boots and my waterpoof parka. So every time I went out I had to change into fresh jacket, shoes, and pants. The rain soaked through my bag and damaged the corners of Enola Gay, that life-changing book of poems which somehow landed in my top science-fiction book list. And yet. And yet I kept on going out in it. And every time I did, I forgot to bring an umbrella.

Yesterday morning, Selva, I was good, I was prime. And I raced through the park paths cataloguing the different kinds of rain:

  • Drops that catch on twigs with budding blossoms and linger before falling,
  • The wet smack in the eye,
  • Concentric ripples on shallow pools,
  • That which is intercepted by the trees,
  • Silvery veil cast across the lenses of my glasses, (and so on)

But there aren't enough animals here or they're in the wrong places. What do they do when it rains, anyway? Do the foxes have galoshes to go with their gloves?

Which brings me back to my crazy junked-up torn-up fantasy that goes something like "Run down to the lake, stand in the swanlight." But there is no swanlight. There is no lake.

oOo


say

  1. Oh, it is. And you are.
    — Selva    05.03.29, 3:20pm    #

commenting closed for this article




geegaw.com is (Ↄ) 1999-2008 Miranda Gaw.
Images created using designfruit brushes.
Powered by Textpattern and Waggish. 		 

0

Archives
RSS / Atom

Peter Parasol
livejournal
friendfeed++

0