Mighbrow: After the Rain

Whatever the time of year, in Corsica there is always 'weather'. Our little house is near Calvi on the north west of the island and there's always a breeze; relief in the 40 degree summer heat but occasionally troublesome in the winter. Up in our village it can blow a hoolie, and we are incredibly exposed A Cima, on the edge of the mountain.
On one occasion we'd eaten on the terrace in the winter sun with a few friends, only for a tempest to kick in. We watched from inside through creaking windows as the table and chairs danced in the wind. Later I was summonsed from the shower and volunteered to save the furniture. With only a towel wrapped around me (and watched by our house guests and a few curious neighbours) I braved the elements and had nearly completed my task when the wind whipped away my towel and took it south towards the North African coast.
"We couldn't open the terrace doors into the house as the wind was so strong" was the official excuse given as to why I was left exposed to the elements (and quite a few sniggers) for a good few minutes. My reputation in the village has never been the same since. It was a cold night....
Have a look at this video and take a walk on to the terrace yourself...

This was written after a magical rain soaked mountain walk. We were so content with the island, the village and the house that evening as we dried out, drinking the local red, listening to Joni Mitchell's 'Blue' while I cooked a wild boar stew. It was another windy night and although it did feel like we might take off at any moment, we felt sublimely secure...

After the Rain

After the rain

The sun makes a jewel of every leaf

Necks craned

We walk in drenched silence

Unsure of the elements

But sure of ourselves

Sure of relief

Homeward

These moments, serene and plain

Unburdened by the possibility of advancement

Bereft of disappointment and regret

These moments are life

Shaped by the simple mechanics of a day

The ‘dear ordinary’, the wasting away

Later I peer through trembling glass

Towards the mountain

To that place where the land meets the sky

To the village beneath and

Reflected in candle light, you and I

In uncertain times there are always

Certain comforts

The wine is flowing free and

Joni is singing for us

Scratching and a wailing

To conjure that magic she does

“Songs are like tattoos,” she says

And we are coloured blue

Hearts are bruised and broken

Marked ‘forever true’

Beneath us the house clings to the granite

And we wait, breathless

For the storm to pass