the right conditions (2)

A day of sunshine, rain, bouncing rain and hailstones.
The sky was an opera, arias of light, baritones of bruised cloud.
Wonderful.
To have the front seat to this, under a sycamore alight with autumn,
the timpani of the rain,
hail.
The sliding streets all of a sudden, rippling rivulets.
A patter on the dying leaves.
The light slowly splitting, spreading into an arc of colour against the brooding blue.
And the trees retreating their sap till spring.
Leaving a glory to the passing seasons.

Then the passion eases. Gutters a gurgling.
Sunshine again.
And on I go.