Forecast

Downpours without a breeze; Sprinkles with winds; Fog moving in; Slimy ... and Wet.

Forecast

It will be pouring every day when I decide to visit you and it will still be sprinkling when I come back. Until then I will remember you singing softly when doing the wash, singing louder when drying. Like all daily chores they will bore you in time. "My clothes ...they be mouldering" you will write me, again and again. Where you live the rhythm of your blood flows with the waters.

Yes, the two suns will show once in awhile. The one above will burn through your head, lodge in your mind. Its reflection in the puddles will astound you. Neither eye will believe what it perceives. Being used to shades of grey the rainbows will overwhelm you. You will beg for it all to go away.

Or you will go crazy expecting to see colors again in your life time. Not likely.

I know the forecast for centuries before they come into being: Downpours without a breeze; Sprinkles with winds; Fog moving in; Slimy ... and Wet.

         Forecast:
         slime mold will move
         over mud.

© Kåre Enga [169.75] 2012-08-11