Milflores, Milflores

Rain all week, off and on, and road construction— orange cones and men in hard hats holding SLOW signs remind me that that is really what I’d like to do— As if on cue, downpour diminishes into drizzle— Droplets tremble on hydrangeas. And from behind the windshield, water is fractals, multiplying; is the moment’s architecture repeated, scaled, sheerer than paint spatter.

 

In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.

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