Tag: storm

Precipitation

James HoganLeave a comment

I have been procrastinating writing all day. It is truly tragic, is it not? One has time to write and write finally for the first time in a long time and then for some perverse reason the will decides to keep choosing other things to do instead. It is maddening, truly. So now the afternoon winds on and I had almost decided it was time to do some dinner prep but then I told myself no that it would not do and that I would write something, even if the output turns out to be quite execrable.

I really wish I could go for a nice walk. It’s been a few days since I’ve stretched my legs properly and it irks me that I feel oh so sedentary in this moment. Yet the rain has been pouring and pouring and though now it seems it’s stopped, I do not trust the sky and I shall not risk the walk, quite certain that more storms shall be rolling o’er head shortly. So. I write! What shall I write? It’s been a long week, what with me and Dani being properly sick and miserable. It’s a garden variety cold/cough for me, but Dani’s been hit much harder. Right now I’m just grateful if she’s able to keep any food or liquids down. Praying for her recovery – oh please Lord, heal her. I suppose it’s normal after a vacation for the body to finally collapse upon arriving home again, mm? Definitely our bodies have been through a lot these past few weeks, what with traveling to Italy (Rome & Positano!) and Greece (Santorini!) and I am quite a terrible chronicler in that I really should detail some of our adventures in the aforesaid, yet I can’t quite bring myself to open the spigot. Instead, I’ll close this little post and then ponder if my creative self can decide to write anything more poetic and dreamy than the dreary prose that has trickled forth thus far.

I really am in a mood, aren’t I? Yet I do long to write something beautiful. I am not quite certain if I can. Yet even if I can’t, it is good to sit here at home, dry and warm on a day when outside is damp and stormy. I will perhaps do some dinner prep now – classic burritos with tomato/avocado salad! – and then see if any writing is to be. Peace and love, my friends. Peace and love.

Curtain Falls

James HoganLeave a comment

Storms roll in on the tide of weekend dreams. Sufficiently pretentious opening line aside, I do marvel at the fury promised by the cloudbank that peers at me over the horizon. I wish I could stay a moment to linger and watch the trees around me welcome the storm as they all lift their hands and celebrate its arrival but alas my feet are not planted quite as deep and firm as their roots and so I must away and fleet to home sweet home where shelter awaits. Oh part of me wishes to throw my hands up wide as well and feel the first winds of the advance guard buffet my shirt with their hearty embrace. Even to feel the sheets of rain fall around me and drench me entirely with the bounty of the heavens would not be a bad thing, for the storm is a clean thing, mighty in its power and joyous in all the clamor that it creates. Lift up a new song this day, ye heavens and even now shout aloud ye earth! This storm that so many cower from as they peer at their small bright screens and tap in disbelief that happy hour plans should be so rudely inconvenienced – it laughs and shakes its fists in hearty disapprobation at your antics. But as for me? My soul strains to escape the gravity of this plane and rise to higher heavens to shout aloud with angels at the mystery that is merely hinted at by the chaos of this storm that all earthly intelligence – artificial and otherwise – fails to truly grasp. See how the stars peer down and marvel at the beauty of the approaching thunderheads. Alas but I cannot see them. I look up and sigh for I cannot see the stars any longer. The last dark clouds roll overhead and thunder whispers it is time. I spread my arms to the heavens. Take me away with you and let me witness the purity of your wrath! For a second I stagger. It is stronger than I expect and then I blink as in an instant I am wet to the skin and feel the water pouring off me. I open my eyes and gaze up into the heart of the storm. Lightning flashes in golden chorus and my heart beats the rhythm of the rain. Oh sing with me this night my dear comrades, sing this anthem of creation’s might! I hasten to sing though my voice is drowned out by the angels. I am grateful that I have a front row seat this evening to the grand old show. Thank you for this opportunity, my good sir. It is very good for us to be here.

Laresnova

James HoganLeave a comment

She’s dreaming of lighthouses again.

Still and silent in her bed she lies yet her mind rages in beauty as images of seas crashing on rocky shores flash vividly in black and white. There is a cliff that reaches higher than the rest of the surrounding land and sea and on that cliff points a lighthouse up to the heavens. At the base of the lighthouse is a little path that winds to the edge of the cliff. On this edge stands two figures silhouetted against the grey sky. These figures, one taller and one smaller, are slightly angled towards one other, as if to protect each other from the winds swooping down on them from above. Down at the base of the cliff the sea pounds relentlessly in rhythm that the spray echoes back in delight. Back on the top of the cliff the two figures huddle closer together. Wrapped in long and bulky outerwear, these figures still seek to conserve warmth in a hug that lingers in its intimacy. Dark clouds move closer to the island yet there is no rain. The sea spray calls louder in sweeter harmony with the low percussion of far off thunder. One of the figures raises a hand pointing to the heavens. The other figure moves closer still to the first. Symmetry of sea below and sky above as both reach to meet the other in stormy union. The two figures break apart and pull up their hoods. They stay a moment longer as the rain washes down upon them in sheets, the pure water washing down upon the rocks and lighthouse and figures alike. One figure laughs out loud, her laugh joining the song of skies and rocks and seas. The other figure pulls her close and together they walk up the path back towards the lighthouse. The light next to the door burns cheerily. The figures pull open the door and enter in. The lighthouse now stands alone on a cliff. The lightning flashes once, twice. Again it flashes. The seas below roar in delight and dance towards the cliffside in chaotic beauty. There is light behind her eyes as she opens them wide. Still and silent in her bed she lies thinking on these things she’s dreamed and wondering what they mean.

She doesn’t mind these lighthouse dreams that call back memories so aching sweet. And she sighs in harmony with the song of that sea spray.