Grass

Green or weather beaten by the sun where distant deserts seem to rhyme their dusty frame and blanched and dry visage upon a selection of up growing jagged tendrils amidst the rest so verdant lush and new-born chop the blade shaves off an evening path to Englishing and enlighten the wanting freedom of greening confined within a precinct of urban back garden ness edged with colours from foreign shores that seem so gaudy in their placement, their jazz like dance of perfume and blossom, variegation  and splashing utterance among beds of pansy, mountain flowers and Scottish heathers a London setting seems so distant and strange windswept flora. The Grass green as English rainy days and patchy as the odd blast of Sun make place for me on a plastic fold up fold out chair. I read and breath in the surround, drink my tea, feel a drop of water on my head. The moisture of a fainting spit from a firmament ready to pounce. The humour so God driven towards a Britain used to weatherly expectations that the sun lasts only as long as you are about to just enjoy and when like me you settle and are glad at what you see and feel refreshed by the hope that today will be long and sun filled free from the constant rain, the blessed moisture that keeps this under foot greenery green a drop as small as a wink a drop that explores a sigh a drop of minute wetness that appears first from nothing then is shadowed by greyness hovering with full of intention. I say it was only a spit a mere nothing lets not go in it will pass, I can bare a few small drops but the drops of minute wetness gather a pace and their weight increases and like a brick wall suddenly falling over the new found intensity of wetness scatters you to pieces. Blast, you yell and you run into your sanctuary. The rain bounces off every surface it is so fast so hard it seems as if a new dimension is being created Is intensity is so immeasurably fascinating. Rivers are new created and channel into the drains the dancing rain bounces and percusses on the small roofs of sheds the ground of concrete turns into a glassy complexion and sparkles with the metal sheen  as if being given a coating of some new formed brilliance, The darkness of the sky seems strange and alien with an enormity of expression that like a gothic thriller is expressing some doom laden sooth that wants an end of times an over darkness that blots out the sun. Yet the dark moment passes and the rain stops its drumming and leaves a new found freshness. The clouds clear away the darkness and the sun appears as if it had been held in a trance while the darkness of clouds had blanketed the sky. The sun proud and bright beats and shines and holds a dazzling newness. The air is full  of water. How this dialogue of water has held its conversation with the garden puddling the grass. The greening and moistening grass.  The wonderful grass.