EXULTATION
The rain falls, I would like it to fall so that it dapples a small lochan with its reeds and waterlilies in such a way that I can watch each small droplet hitting the water and feel wise but no, today it is not like that.
The wind is high, so high that the trees roar like they are in the middle of a raging sea, the leaves from those trees are scattered all over the ground and fleeing ragged through the air. There is a rich smell of torn vegetation and the flung up seaweed of the Clyde and all through it; below the dark racing clouds comes the rain. It doesn’t splash on me; it rattles against my oilies and, as I turn the corner beyond the trees into the full force of the wind, it crashes against my cheeks so hard; I wonder, if in fact, it is hail. The dog is thin as a whippet now his hair is soaked. Unlike him I am not miserable.
My heart is soaring and thrilling with the noise, the feel of it all. This is a day to exult in being alive.
(Photo: Me and Dash the dog. Ardmore 2022)