I woke up on time and when I sat up, I could smell wet pavement from the open window.
The rain sounded like a brown bag of rice splitting open and pouring onto the tile floor. Shivering my neck and teasing my ears, coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once, the boldest of all the sounds of grace. Rain fall is habitual to all matchless day breaks, and completes the great order of noises. Like noises of the ocean and of the blinking of your eyelids which you realize you are hearing only when you catch yourself listening.
On the wet grass, I lie there. First sitting up, and then I lay down. On my stomach or on my side or on my back and the thinking is not much, very quiet. First not at all, and then nothing in particular. The dirt is wide and alive and everything feels near. By some chance, I am here on this earth; and who should tell the sorrow of this earth and this grass and this quilt and may God bless whoever is feeling the same way.
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(I didn't actually lay down on the grass like I wanted to. Instead I had a class to be on time to, so I took this photo in the midst of my insuppressible excitement of the forecast because I finally got to crack out this jacket.) And for reasons I can't express poetically enough, I'm telling you the truth in saying it was the greatest day of my life.
at least top 5.
-tara j
"The boldest of all the sounds of grace"
ReplyDeleteOh Tara.
I'm just so happy you didn't stop writing.
ReplyDeleteAnd rain is cute on you