June 1, 2015
(This is part of a 365 project
during my 70th years where I write and illustrate a blog on each
day’s gift.)
There is something about an afternoon rain, rolling
with thunder, lightning and the smell of wet earth. It is exciting, soothing
and rejuvenating all wrapped in one package. As a child, I used to sit in my
bedroom window to watch storms. For some reason, I never associated rain with
sadness like most poets do. A rain storm awakens the senses—touch of tiny pin
points of rain on the skin, sound of deep-throated thunder, sight of lightning flashes
silhouetting whatever lies between it and me, taste of raindrops like
beansprouts and rich smell of earth. Oh, there’s nothing like the smell of wet
earth to arouse primal feelings. I always say that spring has truly arrived
when earthworms crawl out onto the sidewalk after a rain.
Today I was fascinated by raindrops striking my
porch railing again and again and again and again. My spirit soaked up the
sound and watched this liquid dance. Sheets of rain poured down first
perpendicularly and then angled at 45 degrees, depending on the ever-changing and
swirling wind. Water drops shot down from above, allegro against the wooden
railing and they bounced up allongé in every direction. Some danced pas de deux
up and away, one leap after another. If I looked closely, I could see the rapid
path of each drop, an energetic dance on a wooden stage.
How could anyone equate this dynamic performance
with sadness? It was full of joy.
My
gift today is a water ballet.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You can find links to my other
posts on this project here:
No comments:
Post a Comment
This space for your comments: