The Rainy Day

The Rainy Day

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains,and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains,and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart, and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.

Much Ado About a Dewdrop

I dropped Adi, Ari and Daddy (he was a substitute teacher today) at Tamil School and was rushing back home to help Mummy cook a yummy Sunday afternoon lunch for the boys. I turned a corner and saw a beautiful sight. So,I went home, picked up the camera to shoot some pictures.

I can’t capture the beauty of that transitional moment today morning either with my words or with my pictures. But, here is an attempt.

Humor me. Picture this in your mind as you read it.

A curvy road.
To the left.
Trees.
Trees without leaves.
Empty trees.
Fall transitioning to winter.
Sun rising behind the trees.
Dewdrops.
Dewdrops dripping from the trees.
Sun.
Dewdrops.
Sun in the background.
Dewdrops in the foreground.
Dewdrops glistening.
Hundreds of dew drops glittering.
Like gold.
Like diamonds.
Like sunlight.
Letting the sunlight glistening through them.
A glorious sight.
Momentary.
Transitional.
Here now.
Gone now.
Just like every moment in our life.
Just like our life itself.