Walk 29

Trust the clouds will move on

Rain suddenly comes. It is cold and wet.  The wind is sharp. We stand, droplets of water dripping down our faces, our raincoats quickly soak.  Small delicate flowers are battered and torn. Petals, newly emerged, sprinkle the path like confetti without a bride. The temperature plummets. It is a jolt back to winter. A spring storm to stir things up.  We …