marshlands

My camera's been in the shop so I'm borrowing October's photos. The rain fell then and it falls now.


Washing away yesterday's same old thing. Creating wet equals of us all.


Holding our sorrow with spring's hope. Refueling the ground for beautiful things as we trudge mud.


Keeping us from being pious about life. (Grass stains will do that.)


The soft sluicing on roofs, in eaves, shushing despair.


Take heart, dear one.


You are being watered.