Promise

Ragtag Daily Prompt: THE BLUES

We had a good soaker last night; I looked out at 2 am when the storm was at its worst, flashing, crashing, and roaring overhead, and saw the rain coming down in sheets. This morning a tub left outside has over an inch of rain in the bottom.

So no more singing the dryland blues here. Rather, since I was awake in the night, I jotted down this haiku as it came to me.
Lexico supplies this definition for PETRICHOR: A pleasant smell that frequently accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather.

rain in the night
the petrichor a promise
of golden grain

I had lots of opportunity to ponder life, love, and the path of tornadoes while the storm was making such a racket and debouching over our heads. Thoughts like: If a tornado hit our home, which of our belongings would we miss the most? And, Why didn’t I put my laptop away in its case, where it would be more protected? Irrelevant thoughts, perhaps, but what other kind do you have at that hour?

This morning’s Word of the Day Challenge: FORGOTTEN

I remembered all the scribbled verses on scraps of paper floating around my computer desk. They’d be lost in the storm and the brilliant thoughts (?) forever forgotten! Rather than giving in to the blues at 2:30 am, I resolved again to get the worthwhile ones typed in and saved in DropBox.

Not a new thought. When I jot an idea down, I have every intention of dealing with it promptly. However, like clean laundry waiting to be folded and put away, they tend to pile up on my desk, awaiting processing.