It's the time of year when the river races by in the countenance of doctored coffee, milk chocolate, and cream. In some places, the rapids roar which such ferocity a rafter would want to make peace with whatever deity they worshiped or ignored before facing a fate in a meat grinder of white water.
The House of Owls and Bats sits across the street from the river. There is a drain pipe in our drive, which slants down. This time of year, it is underwater. By virtue of that, we get a symphony not regularly heard. There is the grinding of river rocks, shaped by the force of runoff from jagged to smooth. Thousands of millions of years of geology played out for our listening pleasure as the leviathan grinds its teeth.
Wow. That's a brilliant metaphor. Short and fierce.
ReplyDeleteThank you. It's something to hear.
DeleteMaybe I'm delirious from the heat here, but I can almost hear the water polishing those rocks and stones. Either that, or it's the vivid description in your writing. ;D
ReplyDeleteWhat a cool thing to listen to...
Thank you. It's this sort of rattling, knocking, drumming sound. Kind of haunting.
DeleteI find the symphany of nature, be it soft or crashing, amazing....your's sounds simply awesome.
ReplyDeleteIt's awe inspiring, certainly. In another few weeks it'll be gone.
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