Sep 6, 2008

Painting with the Rain

I felt her on my face and running down my cheeks. She was cold, and I was radiating so much warmth that steam poured off of me. I was caressed by the beauty. Engulfed in the magic of the sky dripping its love to the Earth.

I sat on one of the benches in the yard and watched the leaves of the trees dance under this love. I watched them drink it in. Flowers stretched up and leaned back their heads to catch her beauty. The grass winked at her and reached higher hoping to catch more. The pebbles glistened like silver and gold. There was peace on Earth.

I wanted to create with her. I wanted to harness her beauty. I needed a partner to paint with. She agreed with a giggle of drizzle.

I sat in the studio and pondered color. The rain is colorless to the eye but add light and every color of the spectrum sprouts forth like a prayer spoken from the lips of an angel. I closed my eyes and let her speak to me. She chose. Silver, for the glistening rocks. Black for the night sky that was watching down above the clouds. Lavender, for the flowers that were dancing in her joy. Blue, for the ocean that birthed her somewhere early on in the cycle of her life. She chose, and I found a jar to mix her choices in.

I poured the paint into the jar and went out into the night to collect some of her. I stood there feeling her cold fingertips on my flesh. Her glitter sliding down my curls like children at play on a water slide. I waited for her to tell me when to go to the canvas. We were a team moving toward a common goal.

With a brush, I spread her and her choices on the canvas. Nothing fancy, no real strokes. I just filled the canvas with her and the representation of all that she'd given me. Her colors and her ideas. She was the true artist here. I was an apprentice, learning from the best.

When the canvas was filled I took it out into the night, I let my friend Rain take its brush to her. I listened to her music. There was a pause within her chorus. I knew she had finished.

This morning, I awakened knowing that I had to finish the painting. The rain was still with me, speaking to me. I had to varnish the painting but didn't want to be the one to choose the medium. Again she spoke and asked for a high gloss coat. My friend the rain knows herself well. She glistens, her painting should have the same effect.

It's supposed to continue to rain for a while. I wish I didn't have to go to work today. The artist that is painting the world with her droplets has found a voice and a patient ear. She will have to wait for another day.

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