procrastination

The drop falls - slipping down the black tiles, trembling at the edge of them, gathering added strength from the stream of water feeding into it - then the fall, evening sunlight glancing off the curve. It shudders as it pierces the air, pirroetting with the golden dust. Fallen, only to join the black spreading moisture on the wooden panelling. A brief brilliance in the scene.
The sun, hazy in the washed expanse, leaning over and dipping the world in black contrasts and stinging light - too powerful to have a gentle beauty, this warrior sun.

- Lydie