tim's Bits and Pieces - 13. Walking in the Rain

Walking in the Rain

Thunderstorms rolled through my neighbourhood. I had to walk home after disembarking the bus and I was grateful, though I would be wet, at least it was warm. My route from the bus takes me by a cemetery. The sidewalk alongside it is covered by boughs of trees thick enough you don’t need an umbrella. It is a glorious space, in an open suburban landscape.

From above, rain falls
but the canopy protects
me, from a drenching

As I walked I noticed that some of the headstones were covered in colourful sprays of flowers. Wet now, the colours were even more vibrant.

Purple iris, and yellow tulips
together bring cheer to a
place where forgotten
hopes and dreams are buried.

Overhead, the deep sound of thunder rolled, yet the sun peeked through the dark clouds. Inside, instinct said hurry, hurry home. But the poet wanted to see and feel the air electric from lightening, see the vivid greens on the water-coated leaves and needles of the pines. I gazed on the ground in front of me and the grass—such an everyday and drab thing—was bright, fresh and brilliant in colour. Drops clung to the blades like morning dew.

We walk by our world

oblivious, not seeing

the beauty

offered by the rain.

Time, though infinite,

is finite

invest a minute

to look around and see.

***