I watch the ripples change their size
But never leave the stream
Of warm impermanence
And so the days float through my eyes
But still the days seem the same
And these children that you spit on
As they try to change their worlds
Are immune to your consultations
They're quite aware of what they're goin' through

Friday, April 24, 2009

Signs and Portents, Summer Arrives

This morning's commute, the last in my current position, had the tint of magic all about it.

As I got dressed, I could see lightning flashes out the bedroom window. It wasn't raining yet, but I could see the storm coming. A solid wall of grey hung in the west. Then I pulled out of my garage into golden morning sunlight.

When the sun shines like that, you expect to see sparkly fairy dust in the air. The sun hadn't fully risen, the ground was still in shadow, the second story and the tops of the trees just starting to bud were aflame in that glorious light.

I live to the south east of my employment, and there's a road (SR 86) that travels diagonally most of the way. So behind me was the golden disk of the sun, in front of me was the solid dark bruise of the storm. To the south, the clouds roiled ahead of the front, to the north they streaked across the sky blown by the storms winds, stretched into crystalline thinness.

And that's when the rainbow appeared. A thick band of weak color rose from the north. Lightning played along the storm front, behind the rainbow and across the whole sky, forking and flashing releasing the charge of the world. Some of the lightning did arc across the whole horizon. It was a magnificent storm front.

As the cloud wall grew darker and closer, the sun rose higher, setting more of the world alight in ruddy radiance. The rainbow strengthened until it was a full arc across the sky, spanning two-thirds of the horizon and arcing into the approaching clouds.

That continued halfway through my commute until the rain hit, quickly extinguishing the sun behind me and washing the rainbow from the sky with globs of water. The water smacked against the windshield and slickened the roadway. It cleansed the air of its winter coat and left sparkles of dew on the earth's spring washed face.

As quick as it came, the storm ended and the skies cleared behind it, so when I arrived at work, though the sun hadn't rerisen behind the clouds, the sky was a light blue, and felt fresh and light.

I don't know if this was a gift of prophecy, of signs and portents, or an allegory of the job I'm leaving behind, or a tableau of where I'm at now. I'm sure it was one of the three. Of course, it could also be that trickster returning. He tends to be showy that way. in any case I wish I had my camera and had time to stop and record it.

And I'm reminded that on the first of May, maidens would wash their faces with the morning dew to remain young and beautiful.

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