Tag Archives: rain
It sweeps in silently on the wind. A sudden sheet of rain is thrown at the window, rattling like gravel on windows and roofs. As quickly as it arrives, it disappears.
Rain falls like a veil across the putty-grey sky. It hits the ground in large splashes, mini craters forming within each droplet. As quickly as it arrives, it is gone, the midnight blue dusk revealing itself washed clean.
The rain falls like noise on a television screen, covering the ground with a shimmering film of water. The sun shines through it with a sepia light. A picture of an autumn shower caught in the window’s wooden frame.
Fluffy cumulus float across the sky in flocks, like unspun wool waiting to be carded. Behind them nimbus come, dark and water-laden. As the evening darkens, the rain begins to fall.
Everything is dripping from recent rain. The new Spring leaves and flowers are heavy with water. Yet there is still that fresh, expectant green of a Spring garden, waiting to burst into its Summer glory.
The raindrops come, first small and slow, then bigger and faster. Gradually, the screen fills up with spots. Cocooned inside the car, this meeting of wild nature and man-made machine fascinates me, as drops begin to join together and run … Continue reading
A student walks along the street. Her bag is slung across her shoulders, brown hair tied in a messy bun on top of her head. She wears a pair of sunglasses, despite the rain. Ears attached to headphones, she texts … Continue reading
A steady downpour, this won’t let up for the day. A bright-beaked blackbird makes the most of it. He fluffs up his wings and tail feathers, revealing their grey detailing as he enjoys a shower.
The wind rises up like a wave and flings a snowball of rain against the window. I look up just in time to see the tree branches retreating wildly, as if to say “It wasn’t us!”