hard I take
and stained glass skylights.
© Pamela Rossow
Lately, I haven’t written much here. Not because words have eluded me but because life has been a deluge.
I have been umbrella-less, soaked, face upturned, eyes closed and experiencing a light drizzle matting down my hair. Other moments, being subjected to stinging, pelting torrents.
In between the tumultuous extremes, I have felt warmth breaking through the lumpy, gray clouds. The sensation of sunlight on my eyelids that have caused them to fly open.
When I have looked up through dampened lashes, I have glimpsed rainbows. Day after day after day. Not one or two or three, more like five or six. Extravagant jewels in the skies. At times, only a fragment of multi-colored hues, but rainbows just the same.
I have savored them, letting my gaze remain fixed on their transparent beauty. My emotions have soared amidst the slowly moving skyscape, flitting here and there, bathed in flecks of violet and indigo.
A sense of hope has permeated my spirit. There is no shaking it off, no angry skies that can blanket it, no lightening zig zags that can electrocute it. Anticipation remains, expectant, receptive to whatever it is that is now concealed by a watery, dribbling mist.
She orchestrates the jaunting chorus of ice-cream trucks and children’s laughter mingled with the ocean’s sighs. She grabs my hand and slows my pace to a languid stroll.
I inhale the fragrance of pine needles blanketing concrete. The loud buzzing of Cicada is welcome white noise.
Summer works deftly overhead mixing humidity and sunshine with generous heaps of azure. Sprinkling in some electric zigzags and swarthy scowls. The forecast: smiling sun with a chance of growling gray.
© Pamela A. Rossow