I can’t believe i had forgotten
how much i love walking in the rain.
I overtook the headwaters of the long slow puddle reading gravity carefully down the hill,
nudged accumulated leaves from the drain with my sodden toes,
encouraging waters’ journey to the creek below to bypass my front step.
Wet as i was & undaunted,
i tackled every wayward journey of this downpour,
placing strategic buckets & discovering blocked drains.
I added water,
with a hose to snake its way to places well out of sight,
and on the downhill side of the house,
found a cracked pipe, hoarding last season’s leaf fall.
My trousers so heavy they slipped southward,
leaving tracks across the worn kitchen floorboards like octopus tracks across sand like they only leave in the Kimberley when they journey rockpool to rockpool.
my hacksaw needed a new blade,
of course there were spares on the same hook.
I so love wingnuts,
a design assuming the tools of your fingers are enough,
a quarter century of corrosion easily sorted,
a deep grunt enough to shift it,
New blade slipped through the pipe steadily.
Mud slug released,
we can all get on with our journey.
Water helps water on its way.
Time for a cuppa.
Bless wingnuts &
being out in the rain.
Nothing sounds quite like it …
i love the birdsong it births from its hush
as clouds pass over
i love walking in the rain.