the wash

it's been raining heavily. i was lying cold in bed a couple of early hours of the morning ago listening to the water falling into the leaves and earth, misting and splashing and seething. i think of it finding its way into the ground where it is pulled in streams and rivulets and disperses.

for me it is a tonic, the steady, steamy, windy sound of it, that muffles and distorts and refracts those endlessly familiar and mundane sounds of dryness so that, wet, they become poignant.