one hundred words on the small pleasures
Aug. 12th, 2008 06:18 pmFrom ![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
boonofdoom, a meme of sorts. Play along if you wish--as it says in the title, 100 words (um, more or less, or exact? I'm not sure. Michael?--your rules. Mine's a little over 100) on the small pleasures.
A year of summer water: All night the brook swells loudly--not silenced in June, as usual--but even its raucous voice is nearly drowned out by wind and coyote and insect song, the bass rumbling of the train; a star seen through the treetops. The day, sparkling and wet, smells of damp grass. Wakened by sun and rain, every town's river sweeps through, high and muddy (all destruction and fury), a ravenous current which even my front walk imitates repeatedly, as water streams from the roof, as the rain comes beating down again like the tropics, like the rainforest, as I, the Beloved, lie in the wet grass during a thunderstorm, soaked through.
boonofdoom, a meme of sorts. Play along if you wish--as it says in the title, 100 words (um, more or less, or exact? I'm not sure. Michael?--your rules. Mine's a little over 100) on the small pleasures. A year of summer water: All night the brook swells loudly--not silenced in June, as usual--but even its raucous voice is nearly drowned out by wind and coyote and insect song, the bass rumbling of the train; a star seen through the treetops. The day, sparkling and wet, smells of damp grass. Wakened by sun and rain, every town's river sweeps through, high and muddy (all destruction and fury), a ravenous current which even my front walk imitates repeatedly, as water streams from the roof, as the rain comes beating down again like the tropics, like the rainforest, as I, the Beloved, lie in the wet grass during a thunderstorm, soaked through.