And when the Sun comes out,
After this Rain shall stop,
A wondrous Light will fill
Each dark, round drop…
William Henry Davies from “The Rain”
I don’t ever remember mud in July, only dust.
The sun is finally predicted to come out from behind the clouds tomorrow and stay for awhile. Until then we continue to see copious bleak tears spilling unchecked from a shrouded heaven. Wet cracking cherries have hung unripe for a week, untouched even by the birds who know to wait for a sweeter day.
Nothing now illuminates these perfect round spheres as they roll off leaves and petals to huddle puddled together in community on the ground. The wait for Light is long.
It will come sooner than I can imagine, that moment of seeing a glistening crystalline reflection of the universe in a droplet, when Light returns undimmed, its taste ambrosial.