July the 13th

The rain is coming.
There on the horizon
the cloud bank forms
rising in plumes,
like smoke signals
Confirming the forecast.
But for now there is quiet.
Just the bees buzzing around the fading jasmine.
The gentlest breeze
touching the tips of the stems, stalks, grasses and branches,
receptive outliers.
Then comes something stronger,
a forerunner of the storm.
waking up the lavender as it brushes brusquely through.
It wafts in the scent of heaven
Soft, cool jasmine and lavender,
fresh with hints of not-so distant rain.
But no more than that.

And the sun comes through.
casting shadows over the cast off confetti of white flowers.
strewn across the steps.
The temperature drops noticeably.
as a dark grey blanket draws overhead.
And the mist drops.
The air is heavy now
as the cat plods home
damp with a dewy sheen.
And low cloud steams through the valley.
delivering the pitter, patter of new life to leaf and earth.


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