Overfull

I've done many things today so the evening feels late, as if the day were overfull. It's dark. No one is out in the light drizzle. It seems like midnight and past -- really it is only 7:30.

Raining all afternoon. At five a hard downpour -- new rain striking sparks from the flowing streets. It goes on, the puddles gather and spread. One chinese chrystanthemum, only bloom in the shade garden, bows its forehead to the ground.

Now I walk down to see the creek
behind the Food Basics, usually a little culvert with a tame, thin stream. (If you had two rocks, one plank, and a talent for puzzles, you could cross it without getting wet.) Now it is up feet and feet, over the edges of the concrete and into the scruff of willow and weed. It's heavy, dark as coffee, moving fast. Vs of current catch yellow light and pale light. I throw a sprig of bright elm leaves into it to judge the current, but the leaves go under in a moment.

And a wind to lean into, to sting tears from the eyes. Almost a staggering wind.

I love this too-much weather. It makes me think of home.