Sometimes when it rains the streets become like little lakes.
Early falling leaves float down the gutter streams to their final destination , a "lake" at the end of the street.
There they join the floatilla that sails all over the rippling surface. Bumping into one another here and there they bounce off and float someplace else for a while til ,at last, they bump again and about face to find their own way.
At it's height of power the gutter stream runs along like the great rapids of the large rivers.
Moving in a blur at times, stopping only to splash up on some obstruction , or move around it in circles it slows as the rain comes to a stop. Little by little it finishes its course and then there is a lake to show for it's efforts.
Deer come out to drink from the new lake, emerging from the woods with wide eyes. Dry, having hid under trees. They walk slowly to the edge of the new lake and sip up the fresh rain water , content and happy.
No comments:
Post a Comment