gowk storm

The morning announced by the first rattles of the drills, back to the aeropress, the scent of coffee flowing between the notes of Bach's Cello suites, slow senses cocooned in the ethereal beauty. An early decision to avoid the journey into dystopia which seems to be the main function of the newspapers at the moment, watching instead the unfurling scenes above the hills.

Lunchtime arrived, unnoticed, stepping outside into a physical assault of heat and humidity, the streets become a sauna beneath darkening skies. Then thinking that a walk should be embarked upon before the storm arrives, stepping outside once again, this time within ten metres the first heavy globules of rain are falling, within another twenty the first sounds of thunderstorm. By the time that I reach the entrance of the Eco park it's teeming down, encouraging a return to the flat, already soaked, the gaps between thunderclaps shortening although the air feels breathless and still.

Watching the storm unfold, restless, the world beyond the window flickering in and out of existence as the clock stumbles onward. And then, unexpectedly, blue skies appear, broken by white clouds, a rainbow above graveyard hill, the continuing rain light enough to walk in – the realisation that the choice is between the rain and the news, I choose the rain, returning towards the park, not thinking that, after an afternoon of downpours, the path would be a thread of mud strung between puddles, steps offering a sequence of contusions where waters gather, pools bordered by wood shining and slippery. But I'm already wet, the overhanging branches dripping inconstant showers upon my passing.

Climbing, there's the sound of distanced thunders rolling through the undergrowth, hoping for a viewpoint to catch the rainbow rising, now, from beyond the slightly higher hills while broken clouds drift across the city centre. Yangminshan's cut sharply into the clarified air while, to the south, the skies are darkening into that deepest grey which exudes threat,  blue tinged depths shining, while sharp slashes of lightning offer brief illuminations, eye blinding clarity within the dulled light of the path.



The umbrakle path gluthery,
lappie neath brattle and dinnle,
flaff and flaucht ayont the smizzle
dreeping fae the looming linkie;
this unco gloaming whaur
the stob o a watergaw hings,
glowerin' ower heichts
mirkenin tae the doup o day. 



Umbrakle – shadowy. gluthery – muddy, slushy. lappie -pool, puddle. brattle -spell of bad weather. dinnle – the sound of thunder. Flaff – a gust of wind. flaucht – a burst of lightning. ayont – beyond. smizzle – thin, light rain. dreeping – dropping. linkies – sly and roguish person. loom – appearing out of haze or shadow. gloaming – early twilight. stob – the stump of a rainbow. watergaw – rainbow. hings – hangs. heichts – heights. mirkening – darkening, growing overcast as the sky in late twilight, doup – the end