That one perfect drop

Shimmers with just a sweet trace

Of yesterday’s sun

Last night I strolled through the garden, enjoying the air freshened from the rain, the golden light of pre-dusk, and the intense scattering of water droplets.

In a fanciful mood, and with a glass of scotch in hand, one might call to mind history’s greatest criers, in fact and fiction. You could imagine, for example, that the mighty Odysseus had just wandered, (brooding) through the garden previous to my own visit, shedding his epic tears; lamenting his lost friends.

‘His eyes never dry, his sweet life flowing away with tears…’ [Odyssey, Book V]

Or that Dorothy Parker had just wafted past, weeping while exuding brilliantly tragic commentary, (she, crying, while everyone else is laughing delightedly at her wit) trailing long, drifty caftan sleeves and drinking gin. The largest, most lustrous rain droplets would surely have been her tears.

In truth, yesterday’s rainstorm left ‘tears’ of the happiest kind. Here are a few pictures I took in the early evening.