The sun goes down in a swirl of mare's tails, those wisps that signal change. Rain coming, we hope.
In the night we step outside and look up into the stars, our disappointment overpowered by infinity.
But come first light, rain spots the walk stones. We go out to be in it.
The day we will spend with our feet on the ground under the clouds. In these fields and woods we likely will see no other human being, immersed as we will be in the great system of the earth, living the idyl of the rain.
copyright 2010 J. O'Brien, all rights reserved
