Monday, July 6, 2009
Pitter patter pad and pat, drip, drop and splatter.
Now the day moves towards twilight and the sky is a dark dark bruise and heavy weight of water. There is no roof on the house at the front and the rain drip drip drips and puddles in pools and splashes through the floor boards and onto the ground. The house looks small and sad and tatty as can be. She stays in Her studio and broods and paints . The dogs wait patiently for moments when She takes them out to walk. We curl together. It is cold. It seems as if the very house is crying. At least Elmo is happy. There are puddlecats everywhere.