thunder bangs across the sky and the lightning slashes the clouds. All day, the hands of the wind have ruffled the trees like the affectionate hands of an uncle. Paper and leaves have bounced along roads, against cars and bumped as change has flowed, like a river, into London. The weather is changing, and like a dog, newly caught by a lingering smell, I, too, stand and sniff the wind.
The day began gray like a dirty sheepskin held over the city. As the clouds drew away, the sun briefly shone, just to remind us that it was daylight before the clouds sunk again. The air, damp, humid, heavy loitered like a teenager, between the buildings ready to be swept away by the rain's broom.
London sulks in its room like a petulant child. We hole up in our houses beseiged by the storm, waiting to put down the drawbridge into that fresh, clean, washed world.
Minerva
5 comments:
You are an AMAZING painter of word pictures! I LOVED it!! Thank you for sharing!
I so want to visit London on a rainy afternoon after reading you...you make even the most mundane things spring to life.
Ah... but I remember my 2 years in London. Unfortunately, there were just too many day's like those! I couldn't wait for that sun to poke through! It is amazing how beautiful you make it sound. I wish I had known you then...
Great job.
The line, "The day began gray like a dirty sheepskin held over the city," really stands out.
You make the rain sound exotic, peaceful and comforting. Which is nothing short of amazing to me, since I don't like the rain. (from WA state, where it rains 10 months outta the year) Beautiful writing Minerva!
3T
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