Like freshly hung washing

Like freshly hung washing

19th March, 2010

The rain has softly come, in blobs and drips and sighs. A deep breath of wind generates a ripple of movement in the leaves, and a cascade of suspended raindrops fall with a tiny clattering, all at once. The sigh is over and the stillness of all except the rain returns.

The tree is passive in all this.

The elements act upon her.

Her green leaves hang and drip like freshly hung washing.

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Finding my footing

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I Earthed Myself