Inondable en temps de la pluie…easily flooded in times of rain

The waters are rising.  Overnight they swirl around the rock, a muddy green olive.  The three white geese watch at the far side, their reflections in the water still bright, still clean.  Their island is gone.  I sit in the high window hearing the roar of the source, gushing, rushing, vomiting into the river, an incessant drone.  A great flooding, or vidourage has its origins with the Vidourle I look at.  The rains have returned.  The earth succumbs to the persuasion of water.  From it, dryness is ravaged.  Nothing can hide; leaves from branches let go… blind fish swirl in the dark depths… from drinking stones sleeping ferns awaken… lichens breathe…

It is a good time to seek out a cave in which to hole up.  We go inside, each one of us and every small beast, under rocks, in crevasses, burrowing into the earth.  Great walls of stone surround me.  Inside it is dry.  Stone, linen, iron and wood, man makes a shelter.  I hear the church bells toll. It is le aprés midi.  The water has receded un centimeter, maybe.  Les oies stand on their island with wet feet, wet bellies.  For a moment preening, their feathers drift down stream.  Their reflections are not so clear now…  Darkening skies, more thunder, le tonnerre and lightening.  Then in a moment more rain.  I hear it streaming outside the door, down le passage, pooling at the bend where brilliant leaves swirl in the torrent…the force of impatience…like the pressing of a crowd.  The rain is awesome…and it is a reason the stay inside and get to work,  no excuses now!

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1 Response to Inondable en temps de la pluie…easily flooded in times of rain

  1. susie wampler says:

    Ah yes, I remember the sound of the water rushing in front of the red door.
    Paint, write, perfect……..Thanks for sharing Ali. Bizous

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