It rains all day, on and off, gentle pattering against the window, not loud enough to drown our conversation, but strong enough to make us pause and look outwards, at the garden dissolving like a painting under water, colours blending and merging. At first the thirsty ground drinks it up, then eventually sickens of it, turns away, lets the water run down the path and out to the lane. Each rose holds a million tiny mirrors, the cranesbill holds its face up to be washed clean. Each blade of grass is jeweled with crystals, each leaf is gem studded. I hold a fortune in my hand, then let it fall. We stand in silence, all words lost, showered away.
Each drop a secret
Summer rain whispers into
The flower’s cool heart
A Haibun – it’s Monday atDVerse and we are asked to write a haibun on the subject of rain. We’ve had quite a lot of that this last week or so – I consider myself an expert! – in rain, if not haibuns!