Rainbow and the Roo
I was in the pool at six yesterday as storm clouds gathered, then blew over.
Without any rain, there was still a rainbow. Bright, it even had a deep violet stripe within an arc that was almost a semi-circle.
I splashed about while it beamed into a double rainbow. Climbing out, half-drying myself, I dashed inside to grab the camera. Back out, it had already faded when new clouds drifted over.
Like luck, new love, or a big laugh, rainbows fade.
It’s hard to capture them, and harder to keep them.
Later, I listened to the thunder in a storm that went over the mountains. Once the clouds cleared, I saw the new crescent moon with Venus alongside it. It looked bizarre having both bright sky lights so close to each other.
Rain on the roof woke me this morning. Looking out my bedroom window, I noticed a small, wet, red-necked wallaby nibbling grass.
He didn’t notice me, but then he did. I snapped a photo as the little fellow changed directions. It’s blurred and it’s terrible, but his mid-air swivel made me laugh.
Sometimes I feel that way too; don’t know whether I’m Arthur or Martha, coming or going.
I have an illness that’s considered the most painful incurable condition in the world.
Known as CRPS, Complex Regional Pain Syndrome hurts quite a lot. All the time.
It hit me like a train wreck.
So, I watch sunsets each afternoon when I swim.