V.J.’s Weekly Challenge #43: Rain

Raindrops, not tears,
blur my vision –
the line of trees before me
a glistening blur.
The pounding in my temples
is just the steady rhythm
of watery drip, drip, drip,
not the incessant roar
of my blood pounding –
discordant is this day.

I wrote this piece while stranded in Mississippi, with eighteen hours of driving still ahead of us, and no idea when we might resume our trip. The car had been towed to the shop and the RV mechanic had not yet shown up. Rain began pummelling down early in the morning, and showed no sign of letting up.

As we all know, rain does stop, and circumstances change, and so, hopefully, by the time you read this, I am safe and dry in our home, the incidence all but forgotten.

April is, according to lore, the month of showers, washing away the old and watering the new.

What does rain mean to you? Show me in photographs, tell me in poems or prose, or any other creative means of expression.

Look forward to your responses.

Unsure how to proceed? Just drop me a line below.

Hello April

April means farewell, for we winter Texans.

Not fated to be a quick journey, as problems keep arising, grounding travel, and interfering with our plans.

Fulvous Whistling Ducks, beak to beak

Nevertheless, April means Spring and everywhere we look the birds are twittering with extra fervency – is that romance in the air?

One happy bird in red

And even though we’ve encountered setbacks – breakdowns and other nuisances – the trees are greener, and some even have sprouted blooms.

Our time in the south may be closing, but the South will forever remain in our hearts. A little bit of Texas is coming home with us.

So long for now, y’all.

(Lens-artists challenge is Hello April. All images from personal collection. I am also linking up to my weekly challenge: farewell.)