After the rain, light; after the rain, peace,
the land takes a breath,
After the rain the blades of grass show off their jewels,
rich green adorned by perfect drops, tiny pools of water shine, their
Round sparkle globes glint a whole row down the stalk,
precious gathered perfect circles of light energy glow
and glint in the sun after rain, reflecting
world within world within world.
Drip, glint, drink, breathe, soothe, cleanse, merge;
after the rain the scents rise and all moves and speaks as one,
The shower has played itself out, sighs, passes on by;
the seagull floating high,
rode the rain and the grey clouds now cries,
the sun in its eyes,
The birds know, their voices
call and wait to be understood.
After the rain the slow drip quiet,
the sparkle glints of fallen worlds,
spinning in the fresh broken light,
reflecting world within world.
The drip, the glint, the gull’s cry, the breath,
the sigh, the soft reality of the moment
after the rain.
The fractal symmetry throughout ancient ecosystems is reflected in each blade of grass, in each droplet. Grasses sway to survive the strongest storms — as recounted in the timeless Dao De Jing. Each globe of water follows the ebb and grow of an orb in a distant universe. Oklahoma was home to a prairie grassland that rippled over thousands of square miles, taller than the height of those who arrived to cut them to the quick. Plundered before they could be photographed. Their root system was extensive, resistant to every threat but the short thoughts of colonizers, the short thoughts of the imperious — and now the fractal frackers.
That’s just beautiful!! I love that!!…’the ebb and grow of an orb in a distant universe..’ wow, sends a tingle through me. I l love rain, raindrops, grass, I love sacred geometry, fractals, it’s fascinating, so mind-blowing, helps put all the bullshit in perspective. That’s such a moving, sad story about the grass, makes you weep, the damage done. It still seems to be a plague. I love grass, I hardly cut mine, only a trim here and there, it attracts all kinds of life, but all around me people mow rigourously till there’s barely anything left, regimented gardens and so many now when they move in, just kill the whole garden; it all gets removed, trees cut down, hedges butchered, every bit of life and all kinds of refuge and homes destroyed but they don’t think about that, just want a ‘prison yard’, it might a s well be, it just breaks my heart, I don’t get people, at all.