Wednesday, June 18, 2014

Frame



Rain is sliding lazily from the leaves, drop by drop.
Multicolored hydrangeas, wet and disheveled never looked more beautiful on the background of the silver-tinted skies.
Torn clouds keep crying away, tragic and lost, looking down on scenery underneath, wishing to stay and rest on the top of trees or soft, tangled grass, watching the day go by.
Silence is only disturbed by the  murmuring water, pouring through the green.
Cool moist air fills lungs with unusual freshness that'll soon disappear into the real summer heat, eaten by the ever-hungry sun.
Light drizzle is stretching an invisible net, layer by layer, assembling little shiny purls strung together on the web lines, forcing spiders into hiding.
Sounds are softened, subdued, cushioned cosily into a mellow cotton ball world, existing only for a moment in June.

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