Friday, November 18, 2011

Black Months

Let the rain kiss you
Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops
Let the rain sing you a lullaby
The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk
The rain makes running pools in the gutter
The rain plays a little sleep song on our roof at nightAnd I love the rain.

~ Langston Hughes


Lisa said...

Rain is lovely when sheltered inside with one's beloved. Or, it can be quite a lone dismalness.

The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.

(In a Station of the Metro, Ezra Pound)

FDChief said...


Wednesday was quite the cold misery.

Lisa said...

So sorry -- I find it always hard to adjust when nature turns cruel :( Why can't we have an eternal Spring or fall?!?

I have always loved Van Gogh's "Nature morte aux tournesols" -- the flowers are past their prime, perhaps, but to my eyes, achingly lovely. So that is fall. I could dwell there happily. Winter is too harsh for my liking.

FDChief said...

Well, that's the hand you're dealt when you make a living working outdoors.

Our autumn is never predictable. Some years we have this long slow slide into winter; others, the rains arrive in September and it's all over until May. It's a crapshoot every year, and all we can do is hope for the best.

This week is supposed to be fairly crummy, too, and I'm outside all three working days.

Lisa said...

I wish the weather were more pleasant for you. I have read that along with the Oregon's beauty comes some very harsh and fickle weather.