A restless night, where a volume of thunder blows away sleep. In the morning clouds stack and part and here is the sun, a warm salutation of sun.
Sit down to write and the light shines direct into my eyes.
What?! I ask of this phenomena: humorous cosmos, most humorous!
Sigh; for I will have to push the table back to clamber out of my seat and walk every one of those five steps to the window and shift the wooden clothes horse to lean in, unwind the cord, let the blind down halfway.
Shadow ivy shimmies and the breeze whispers like shantung silk.


Suze said…
I am left curious about what sets shantung silk apart from other kinds. :)
Geo. said…
Closing line and photo compose an indelible image. Beautiful.
Lisa Southard said…
Shantung is a raw sort of silk, but lightly weighted with few slubs. I was going to simply say 'raw silk' but raw has connotations of pain and raw silk can be quite heavy, neither of which fitted the experience. I used to work in a fabric shop so have a residual fascination for how texture and colour affect a scene. Don't always remember the names of fabrics, I did google this. Shantung is a nice word too :-)
Thank you Geo: it was beautiful: it always is: though today the view is more about raindrops!

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