It rained so much the compost is floating in the bin, but it doesn’t matter. It rained so much the garden is wet as milky cereal but it doesn’t matter. The stream is loud as cymbals and motorways, it makes a noise like many people shouting things beginning with ‘s’, but it doesn’t matter.

It doesn’t matter because there is a clean wind.
It doesn’t matter because there is light where the leaves used to be.

DSC_0982The pond is full and clear.
Rain laps over the grass field like rivers over weed – it has become a quiet, watery, worm-swim world.

By the waterfall, waves roll up the bank like wet seals.
Swelling, the stream pours over rocks like caresses over hips.
The grass lies wind-flattened in ripples facing east, each blade a silver sword.

I take a walk to the waterfall and wash my boots in the grass.
When I come back I open the windows and let the wind in.