Silver Trails Down Panes of Glass

It was a dark and stormy night, no make that afternoon, no make it morning. Lately it’s been raining all day so why just concentrate on the night? When it pours in Southern California there are school closings due to flooded canyons, fear of mud slides after fierce wild fires that burned out of control and Snake Plisskin surfs down Wilshire. Raindrops keep falling on my head for what seems weeks now, when will it end?

Lifting your face up to the cleansing rain, feeling the raindrops roll down your face after a long period of drought or an extended heat wave in the city refreshes the spirit but when the rain goes on and on and on for days without end it can be demoralizing. Mood reflecting sodden skies or perhaps the opposite. Restless spirit style cramped by limitations and confinement. Atmosphere for funerals and remembrances of those long gone. A lonesome little raindrop circles the drain saving melancholy moods for another rainy day reborn.

We could try running away from our troubles but acid rain is killing all the songbirds. A hard rain is falling in the Amazon rainforests and it is diffacult to find anywhere in the world these days where we can find shelter from the storm. If we chase the clouds away will our children have their seasons in the sun? or will they be doing rain dances on Astroturf lawns surrounding crystal fountains frozen in time? If we don’t cherish the trees where will they run to shelter from the purple rain or to escape the glare of the burning red sun? The Lorax knew what would happen but like Pandora no one would listen to him.

If a yellow submarine can float across a psychedelic landscape why can’t drops of sunshine fall like rain through the sea? Instead the rain turns ocean and sky into shades of gray, with frothy waves breaking on empty beaches. Bracing stance facing into the wind channels power generated by resistance imagination flying with the storm but exhilerating as it can be, one still wants it to end.

Watercolor pictures on the sidewalk wash away in a swirl of color like dreams fading into abstractions of rainbow movement. Longing for sunsets and blue skies, a chance to find the pot of gold doesn’t happen until the rain is over and the firmament is clear. Green growth springs through cracks in the sidewalk while sunshine splashes down from heavens cooled by gentle breezes blowing the last fluffy wisps of white over the horizon.