Sun Shower
Apr. 7th, 2005 07:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rejectomorphGray hours pass, all the world's color muted, the sky slate, and yet no rain falls. Mid-afternoon arrives, undistinguishable from any other part of day. Then there is a distant rumble of thunder and a stir of breeze. Just as the overcast begins to brighten, a few raindrops fall. The dull pavement is soon speckled, and the deep green leaves of the sourgrass are flecked with bright drops. Closed flowers vibrate as the wind grows stronger and the rain falls faster. The long-inert sky moves, clouds emerging from the gray mass. Colors are suddenly richer and the air glows, as though the raindrops were bringing the hidden sun's light to earth. Thunder continues to roll, though no lightning can be seen.
Now the clouds scurry, rushing to reveal unexpected patches of blue. Amid the downpour, shafts of sunlight emerge from silvering ramparts, making the streaks of rain sparkle and all the puddled pavements shine. Shards of sky fall to earth, the streets full of reflections, and chirping birds fly through the rain. The drops grow fewer, and sun-warmed vapor skims the streets and rooftops. Broken clouds become white ghosts of the storm, dissolving in brilliance, fleeing the sun, opening vast swaths of blue.
The wind fails, the rolling thunder vanishes into the revealed mountains, taking refuge among the gray masses which linger there to make a last stand against the advancing light. Still, there is the sound of rainfall. The eaves of houses, the pine needles, the not yet fully leafed mulberry twigs, are all beaded with festive drops which fall glittering to the ground. The sun-streaked woodlands appear to be emerging from an icebound state, drenched with shimmering falls of water and light. The flowers begin to open, greeting the belated sun. Puddles reflect the sunlight, and the reflections flicker on walls and fences as rippling streams of light, flowing toward evening.
Now the clouds scurry, rushing to reveal unexpected patches of blue. Amid the downpour, shafts of sunlight emerge from silvering ramparts, making the streaks of rain sparkle and all the puddled pavements shine. Shards of sky fall to earth, the streets full of reflections, and chirping birds fly through the rain. The drops grow fewer, and sun-warmed vapor skims the streets and rooftops. Broken clouds become white ghosts of the storm, dissolving in brilliance, fleeing the sun, opening vast swaths of blue.
The wind fails, the rolling thunder vanishes into the revealed mountains, taking refuge among the gray masses which linger there to make a last stand against the advancing light. Still, there is the sound of rainfall. The eaves of houses, the pine needles, the not yet fully leafed mulberry twigs, are all beaded with festive drops which fall glittering to the ground. The sun-streaked woodlands appear to be emerging from an icebound state, drenched with shimmering falls of water and light. The flowers begin to open, greeting the belated sun. Puddles reflect the sunlight, and the reflections flicker on walls and fences as rippling streams of light, flowing toward evening.
