washwords

I haven’t been writing as much lately. Yes, I’ve been busy with work and work and work. Yes, I’ve been trying to learn about some other facets of the internet to grow my blog and make it better, perhaps even profitable.

But also, I’ve been blue. Deep, beautiful, aquamarine blue, in my core. Read more »

Against the aqua of my curtains comes yellow so bright, I think it must be car lights. It is 8:20 p.m.

I open the curtain to see that no, it is the summer sky before a storm.

Yellow beams hit my curtains, pebbled sandy driveway, clean white stone of the walls of my building. The rain is coming.

Thunder literally rolls over the yellow green of grass, magnolia tree leaves, footprints.

Flashes of white that stab the earth and listen, wait.

I open the curtains wide to breathe in the wet wind.

When the rain comes, it is in drumming, pattering waves. I love the smell, the taste, the feel of the night from my room, the same storms I watched from a similarly yellow-lit blue room of my childhood.

The summer storm makes me feel something is coming. And anything is possible.

[Photo by "Soleil 1016" on Flickr]