***A few random, slightly poetic sentences about something that actually happened.
We sat among the fallen leaves wet with rain. Spring had only just arrived; remnants of winter cold lingered in the air. Under the roof of a wooden pavilion, upon some benches there, we ate our soup.
It warmed us from the inside, and it's steam rose before or eyes. The earth around us was hued in darkened tones from the fresh rainfall, and birds whispered to the wind. It felt as if crystals of frost slowly formed around us, but we had soup; its warmth would fight of any sort of late winter mischief. Delicious, vegetable soup, with salted crackers. One had fallen on the pavilion floor. Oh well. Some creature of the woods would come at our departure and relish it's toasted wheat flavour.
The scent of petrichor gained ascendancy over the sharp notes of verglas in the air, telling all that spring had truly come. What better way to celebrate, than with a bowl of soup among the not so wild trees of a garden?
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Rainy Day Renderings
PoetryPoems and short stories about rainy days and wanderlust.
