Rural Living

I had this very moment to go somewhere else; wanted it to be different from the usual scenery of buildings, monuments, billboards and other urban domains. And since everything is in its break, might as well seek another minute to ponder on the other side of living beyond the boarders of urbanity. I know, this is less than what you would imagine. But taking a glimpse is perhaps worthwhile...

The carabao, the cow and farm animals heard it first before I do.
And so do the horses, in the staples where they peacefully rest.
A dry dislocated thumb and a bit of thunder from faraway.
While the breeze has its latest news for me, whispering.
The next moment, as if I can see the wind turning corners where in fact there are not any.
Lifting and weaving the farm/barnyard dust.
Wind flails the wind on the nearest trees -- a kind of wood, both hard and soft; as it reveals their silver undersides.
It scatters spent flowers like hockory in drifts.

Then, the sky blackens, and I can almost hear the sshhh, as the rain begins.
But then, the wind drops and the front unravels over the Pacific ridge where the weather takes its baptism.

Blue sky intervenes. Afterwards, a powerful night threatens again and you can see lovely Venus, the Queen of the Night and the Shining Stars hanging brightly in the dusk.

Strange, weird nature. This unmatched cycle that I truly miss.
The rural living incomparable to its opposite.

And this was along my trip to my three-year hometown, I wonder why I still have this feeling of coming back, to once I considered days of my childhood.
Sentiments outpouring. Rural life still has it.