Assorted

When you see a scraggy patch of grey eating into the pristine emerald of the supple grass in the rains...

washed by the torrent of water rushing in a psychedelic rage

the rains have come after a long enormous wait

and yet they allure you

you had waited for this moment of green life sprouting up

and getting ready to face the onset of next season as the earth goes round the sun.

it is wierd that we see myriad hues everywhere

yet we hope to classify what we behold into straight lines of black and white

not even the least bit of grey to be provisioned for...

u think its black, yet its so much of grey

it may be just a green, or the orange in blazing May,

and it may be something like a purple surprise

yet it is just a hue, a new hue each day...

and while this will always pose to be the eternal conflict, there is still so much that the rainy mist might teach us,

rains are not black

rains are never white

they are full blooming grey

yet we may hesitate slight

they come and go when they wish

sweeping away voids of fear

and they bring with them the promise of life

the power to nourish with them everything big and small

until the sun goes away for its half cycle..

and on comes the season of fall

Nothing is more resplendent than a shiny dewdrop perched up on a bud so alive in the morning rain....
it is young and knows so little, yet it blooms up in a mellow harmony and seeks to endure...
even the harshest winters of its life.