Pursuing the poetical, paradoxical, metaphorical, lyrical, artistical, majestical, and mystical.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Dry Storm

Sleep is eluding me this night.  Thoughts are tumbling, thrashing around and rumbling.  In North Dakota, there is something called a dry storm, all the outer signs of a good storm, but no rain.  This feels like a dry storm....... 

In Washington, we can't imagine wanting more rain, but for farmers who depend on the rain for crops to grow, it is needed, wanted and desperately missed when absent.   It has to rain for the seed to sprout.  Those tiny tender blades need rain so as not to shrivel up.  In order for the plant to set good fruit or come to a head the right amount of rain needs to be absorbed.   

Texas has these big pregnant drops that fall in slow motion, then splat like they are animated, breaking into a million baby droplets.  

Florida rain comes down in sheets, sideways sometimes, wet and warm.  

Arkansas has the kind of rain begging for you to dance in it, naked.  Feels like a silkie blanket caressingly draped over you.  I know this to be true.  The night asked for it and waited till I said yes.  

Yesterday at the river, the sun shone and sparkled with a glad face, smiling on me.  With the sun and the rain mixed like this, growth happens.   Maybe it's not a dry storm after all......   tears are rain too.



  

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

You were always my water baby, Remember at Lake Tahoe on my 70th birthday, and you jumped in the cold lake and enticed Craig to follow, he almost had a heart attack the water was so cold, you stayed in and thoroughly enjoyed it with this big grin on your face.