Alloy of Loss and Beauty

This morning it is raining in the dry Karoo. During the quiet night hours, I heard the gutters gurgling in between the plinking of lazy drops of gentle rain on the zink roof of the 108-year-old house. The night-thoughts, words, and images loosened and turned towards a fluttering, more inwardly centred, simpler, and earthy, as if the framework of diction broke free from old ruts.

water is rising

the bark of the blue gum tree -

beauty, loss unpinned