clear skies in time for moonrise, the whitest thing we’ve seen in days, gray days.
around the moon, the blue night. clouds on edge. winds at bay.
earth is wet and gets all over you if you get too close. all the birds and beasts here scraggily, keeping a spot dry. the worms rising.
last night, saturday, was dreary through and through. it will set the standard for dreariness for some time to come. more wind will be needed to top this. but we’re not complaining, we’re feasting on rain, soaking in.
but this is strange, a warm rain in october, and i feel that i’m experiencing something new, and try to take it all in–cloud patterns, light rays, birds flying, aromas–take it in deep so my whole body knows it and can remember the signs next time. or maybe part of my body will remember and jog the memory of the rest of me. not that there’s much to be ready for, next time. “the drought will end in gentle rain.” “no deep frosts well into october.” such beneficence is exceptional, not to be planned for, and when it returns needs no forecast.
the last night of the south wind before the rain, i went to lie in the grass awhile. to listen, and shudder with the earth. and immediately, i traveled with my mind back in time to some other wind–a vague memory, more like other winds brought together in one–the feeling shot right through me and was gone. like deja vu, like a quick dream. but it was also like the wind was much older than me, blowing through me, holding me up, the memory in my body like a banner, waving.