when it rains.
20/09/2011 § Leave a comment
It rains, real hard.
So we waited until it stopped with nothing but a Guinness and a Bailey’s to stop us. The moon was rising and there were but drops left in our rocks glasses half full.
The moon is waning… I thought.
We had just had a shift, of thought or work or whatever, and so many conversations of a curious sort. Ideas about freedom & love. Perhaps the sixties had a bigger impact on the echo-ing boomer generation than we gave ourselves consciousness for.
Time spent under Stella ‘brellas on the corner of the Welly,
“I wish I had some Wellies.”
Beside the curb, beside where dog bowls are filled with rain water, the storm drain creates a whirl-pool of spirals down into the drain. And, for a moment, I wonder how long or what path the water will take to get to the sea.
These are the Doings of what was to remind one of what is Being and how to be while one does whatever it is one will do.
Yes, I don’t mind the rain, as long as it’s not prickling my face.