“Here I am, an old man in a dry month,
Being read to by a boy, waiting for rain”
No rum today. No matter.
About nine in the morning there is a welcome shower. The sky is blue, the sun is shining and we have this utterly welcome shower. I am not going to miss this. I drag my plastic armchair: I bought one because it’s so light that I do not have to call someone to bring it for me. I drag it to the open door; sit, and watch the rain.
The water comes down from the roof and into the drain, flowing without hindrance. The flow keeps ricocheting off the sides of the drain generating a sort of lattice-work of ripples. Odd bits of flotsam, dried leaves float down. The water flows along and the lattice-work seems almost static, but it’s not. Raindrops fall, and superimpose circular ripples on the moving water. Ripples interact. All is movement, all changing all the time.
Not a bad thought on Vesak day, yesterday that was, and that is why it’s raining. It always rains on Vesak day.
I look up. Blue skies and sunlight and some little movement. A cloud of little flying insects, flying up 10 from the ground. They are pouring out of the ground. Not from one place but two, perhaps more. They are too small for me to identify, but can be seen because the sunlight picks them out against the dark backdrop of the trees. Too small to be “may-roo” but obviously related. All on a nuptial flight. Released from an underground life, by the rain they have been waiting for. Like prisoners waiting for a Presidential pardon on Vesak day. Up they fly, sideways, too, but ever upwards.
The rain ceases and I go out to search for one. None. All have gone up, up and away. Against the brilliant blue sky they have become invisible. I look at where they came from, but can’t find any trace. On the wall, a small, very small gecko is waiting for them too. Did he get a snack? I think not.
Rain stops. Sun shines. Blue is the sky. A brief scene enacted. The Act changes.
I put the chair away.