bimble

By monkus

The morning brightened and humid, hillsides caught in air cleared by the rains of yesterday. Slow today, coffee and more Bach. The paths will be too busy, blue sky calling forth multitudes, the plum rain forecast to arrive in a couple of days, another thunderstorm to arrive today. In the late morning, accompanied by warm rain, the entrance to the Eco park crowded, passing by, wandering – today there's no solitude to be found across the hills, little shelter to be found in the city.

In the afternoon, the air cooled slightly, wandering up the local hill, the same old game, only paths I don't recognise and see where I end up. A good game today, finding myself upon a path that I, kind of, wanted to find again.

Night falls upon the city, stars clear upon a dark background, the lights upon the distant hills almost close enough to touch.

And as, another, distraction to keep me away from what's happening in the world a rough attempt to put the Scots thingy from yesterday into English. With apologies...


The shadowy path muddied with slush,
puddles formed beneath squalls,
peals of thunder; gusting
wind and flashing lightning.
Beyond, thin spittle dribbling,
a rogue hazed within shadows.
This strange dusk where 
the stump of a rainbow hangs,
staring across darkening heights
towards the ending day.

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