Rain’s drama falls in a scintillating curtain, sun still shining shimmering the wind picking up speed, glossing the brown leaves that start their soft spiralling descending in a whispering falling.
Miracle of whiskey light in the aftermath.
Slow-motion afternoon, playing out its mysterious radiance, the old sun-rain dance.
The acupuncturist is called. Arrives with his box of pins. Performs the old voodoo trick.
End of the show. Blinking in the light.