IX - Heavy Rain

Fresh heavy rain coming from the North, maybe from the ocean, relieves the pain of who sees her from the rusty train.

Clouds run fast between the green hills, past the old barn.

Horses are just little spots compared to the land. They have freedom in their veins.

My eyes see never ending lands until the horizon, where the wind draws cool waves on the green fields.

I pictured the landscape as a postacard in my head, getting wet by the rain, that fresh heavy rain looking for a rainbow.