Sough and Rain

A pattering rain rained on the alms man, soughing his cutout cardboard mat and frizzing what little hair he had left on his head. A clap of thunder brokered his thoughts, casting him into a world of ghouls and imps and a sprite with elfin ears and a crooked smile. He had vague memories of his brother’s firemen’s wagon and a man who wore a monocle and a pipsqueak’s hat. The rain and thunder called to mind a time when he climbed trees, willows and oaks, elms and maples, and scaled bridges made from logs and mud chinking. The wicked witch’s stockings and the cowardly lion, and his brother’s wagon stowed in the woolshed at the back of the house where the garden that never grew sat in defiance of reason and common sense.