The first of the summer rains made quite an entrance this year. It was a subtle opening scene made up of drum rolls of thunder followed by the quick burst of a rain shower and then golden hairs of lightening decorating the discontinuous grey and cerulean sky. It was lovely. The air went from dusty and acrid to fresh and pungent with a slight and welcome coolness.
I was out for a walk. It wasn’t exercise. It was one of those, ‘I walk in the hope of inspiration’, type of walks. I have given myself a massive task to achieve. I’m positive about it all, but with the occasional healthy balance of fear fed jitters. I was walking in the hope of being touched by inspired solutions to the many challenges that linger. When the first droplet hit me I gasped. Then came another droplet. I looked skyward. Then a shower hit my face, followed by a torrent and then it stopped. The whole drama lasted for two minutes, or less. The word ‘anointing’ popped into my mind.
Hope springs eternal in the human breast; Man never is, but always to be blessed – What is the first rain without a little poetry? This is from Alexander Pope. It popped into my head immediately after the ‘anointing’ billboard. And since this first rain moment is unredeemable I decided not to waste it on worry for a moment longer. My pent up tears made an instant metamorphosis becoming feathers of hope – Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words – (Emily Dickenson).
I promised myself I would dance to that tune in the second burst of first rain.