Wednesday, June 02, 2010
Rain on
To quote a screen caption from My Blue Heaven, "Into each life a little rain must fall."
Here at this bend in the river, inhabitants mood as gloomy as stormfronts: billowing packs of grey toppling over the hills west of downtown. A gust of wind, a splash of rain.
Maybe with enough rain, something might sprout from this arid array of old nothings.
No news is still no news. Recent articles? Garden updates? A few and a few more, respectively.
Deadlines fade. Work comes, work goes. We wait for baby and scratch our heads for names.
Kids age in our Portland age.
To mood: To feel that precipitation post-Memorial Day vacation soaks in violation.
This evening, a view from a train crossing the Willamette: a rainbow, arched so low, its ends and pots of gold sunk down in the mud and mire.
And the rain, splattercast.
Here at this bend in the river, inhabitants mood as gloomy as stormfronts: billowing packs of grey toppling over the hills west of downtown. A gust of wind, a splash of rain.
Maybe with enough rain, something might sprout from this arid array of old nothings.
No news is still no news. Recent articles? Garden updates? A few and a few more, respectively.
Deadlines fade. Work comes, work goes. We wait for baby and scratch our heads for names.
Kids age in our Portland age.
To mood: To feel that precipitation post-Memorial Day vacation soaks in violation.
This evening, a view from a train crossing the Willamette: a rainbow, arched so low, its ends and pots of gold sunk down in the mud and mire.
And the rain, splattercast.
