Showing posts with label Rain. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rain. Show all posts

Friday, 14 October 2022

Rain

 


LOVE – Let me put it to you that the start of the sound on the roof that is not instantly understood, only as the sound increases in number until before long is a steady clatter or flow, inspires the need to rush to the nearest window where the sound is quickly a forest of water droplets let go of by clouds, dark and out of view above, radiating life and light. MIRTH – I put it to you that predictable day with its humourless to-do lists is turned by a torrent along gutters over and jib-jab of plummets in pooling puddles, into a spectacle for relief bursting with laughter at the thought, more like the surge through the body, that says your previous pile of worries are piffle, your stubborn indulgence in pettiness is dumb; that says you will watch vertical cascades turn horizontal at ground level with glee, thousands upon thousands of ground zeroes. ANGER – You read about storms in stories, as warnings from gods that your patterns of life are spoilt; about floods rising above rooftops where everywhere is one sea. You read stories of climate change that speak as if great floods, like great drought, are outcomes of a volatile Earth righting itself, casting about for solace, for a cure. COURAGE – Let me say that such enormous forces of water, looming then let loose, have been beyond your control, and mine, for as long as we have opened our eyes; likewise each generation since waters parted from the heavens; and how this unmanageable element, more a power than simply an element, may be avoided or worked with takes as much courage as ingenuity. FEAR – Why, indeed, the weight of rain falling and then rushing hitherward may get into your house, or the storm lift the roof and wash everything away from one moment to the next, as the clouds keep arriving unseen behind other clouds dark with the threat of heavy falls; may isolate you from me, even close the conversation; may render obsolete the crowded inventions we put so much store by, yours and my own small share of inheritance. AVERSION – Such is rain’s condition of seeming indifference, I put it to you there is reason to desire only ever a clear day, as the inescapable element pounds on the ground, cuts off roads, upturns bridges, and muzzies the mind with relentless pouring that would be designed, by all that is reasonable, to disappoint expectations, dampen the mood, and ruin your day for the foreseeable future. WONDER – However, such time-honoured aversions turn out to be immaterial, I put to you, when you gaze at the white falls of walling water hiding the views awhile on every side, their corresponding thunderous torrents across tin roofs and open courtyards, with inside calm and quiet within where you gaze in silence, happy to believe in good fortune, which is blessing of complete wonder. SORROW – You could choose, later sometime, to look upon the losses inflicted by the storm, what then you could do to help that you could not in the midst. Or choose to watch raindrops dropping one two three into a still pool outside your window and wonder why instead of feeling pleased, you wish with a touch of longing for more of the same downpour.

Saturday, 10 August 2019

Rain

 
Pour tellingly on all where the dry cries
Rain, green through greenery, grey in the skies.
The rain is starting up, as well as down.
The rain comes with a rush, it goes to town.
Rain raises the Darebin, circles the Merri,
Raindrops very very very very.
Radio sings the r—a—i—n I can’t explain.
Thin-as-grass-stem rain, fast-as-day-flight rain.
Rain not to get caught in, rain of tin roof,
Rain that brought the clothes in, the living proof.
Down panes, lanes, grains, not in vain drains.
Up main frames, trains, drumming the same.
Rain rain rain rain rain rain rain rain rain rain
Easing a little, starting up again.
 
 

Saturday, 20 October 2018

Rain (October)

October rains in the night, reassuring sound on roof and garden. Heat all day, intent on more heat. Dry look of cricket grounds is drier, walking home, drear. French doors open for supper, the green square of long garden in the frame fading to black. We finish our wine. Reading, writing, designing. At midnight the wind that sounds like rain is more heat pushing branches, rattling objects. Cats sleep through, unbeknownst, in cool-off mode. But at three three-thirty we awake to the rain, free of anxiety or want, of all the names that make us smile or fret or wonder.

Thursday, 17 August 2017

Rain (August)

You have made it happen. Water spins light-thrilled. Lines zip across windows, depend or dash. Puddles accept more circles of their substance. People huddle under canopies. Workmen wait in sheds. Mind overlooks a dry winter, for now. Reason keeps a score on warmth. Umbrellas, everyone complains about them sometime: they don’t obey, they blow away. Nothing much to complain of, living in the world’s most liveable city. You tell us how it falls on good and bad alike. And of its substance are we made. We dashed through August puddles, homeward gloried getting drenched. Nothing’s changed much in that respect.

Wednesday, 25 March 2015

Rain (March)


Slobbering over rosepetals, the gutter overflow piddles and missiles onto chicken wire too, catching long droplets on hundreds of hexagons. Mazing over treetops, the hilltop downpours collage and switch-swerve over lorikeet lawns too, filtering threaded catchments through thousands of grassblades. Silvering over erosions, the upstream onsets spittle and pimple over mirror water too, lifting moving surfaces above march of freshwater. Pooling over windscreens, the rooftop washdown dribbles and films across shiniest duco too, bearding wet lines along kilometres of macadam. Slooping over crinkle-packets, the township freeze-flow puckers and splesh-splashes over supermarket throwaways too, spreading small billabongs on sheetings of plastic.


Saturday, 10 August 2013

Rain (August)


On the platform where the bitumen dips and pedestrian yellow prickles undulate little puddles widen as their source places expanding circles on the shiny surfaces.

On one side of the carriage the windows are crisscrossed with little sprays while on the other side the windows are speckled with droplets of light and grey, joining and flowing downwards under their combined weight and the speed of the train.

The concert ovations went all night when he emerged from his dreams of long coats and umbrellas anywhere in the world tonight to the warmth of the dark undeniable first world of his enduring habitation.

Overnight the roof sound was steady and this morning already the creek has risen to the grass, breaking banks and collecting more from the skies as it swirls brown toward inevitability.

Wipers in the blaze of white water push clear to serve clarity and every contour directs abundance across the camber and into Hoddle Street storm drains in sprays of hurry.

The slates of Collingwood turn black in the day and warehouse peaks and corrugations and solar panels of Richmond and terracotta tiles of Jolimont and tarmac tops of CBD glisten and whiten and flood.

Little streams down the tram grooves and against window settings and along the centres of leaves in canopy downward are cleaning up their act, the miles of gutters and downpipes, the birds will be happy.