693 Followers
232 Following
forestbathing

forestbather

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Corydalis

 

The rain drips on silent umbrellas. Or rather continues to drip, as it was dripping before I wrote these words. 

 

I don't need shelter. Perhaps people seek comfort too much. When did standing out in pouring rain become bad for one, I wonder, and write that I wonder, though in fact I don't really.

 

In the hills of East Africa some carried umbrellas against the sun, and the blue of corydalis flower lay scattered over the mountains. Not raindrops but trying.

 

past memories

dribble downwards

the flowers grow