L'aura del Campo

Future imperfect. "Mold will move"

Mold will move

It will be pouring every day when I decide to visit you and it will still be sprinkling when I come back. Until then I will remember you singing softly when doing the wash, singing louder when drying. Like all daily chores they will bore you in time. "My clothes ...they be moulding" you will write me, again and again. Where you live and will die the rhythm of your blood will flow with the waters.

Yes, the two suns will show once in awhile. The one above will burn through your head, lodge in your mind. Its reflection in the puddles will astound you. Neither eye will believe either one. Being used to shades of grey the rainbows will overwhelm you. You will beg for it all to go away.

Or you will go crazy expecting to see colors again in your life time. Not likely.

I know the forecast for centuries before they come into being: Downpours without a breeze; Sprinkles with winds; Fog moving in; Slimy ... and Wet.

A slime
mold will move
over mud.

© Kåre Enga [169.75] 2012-08-11

Note:

The prompt was "future imperfect". There is a book out by that title by Friedman and it was an episode in Star Trek, the Next Generation (1990) but I chose to look up the tense on Wikipedia. The imperfective is "an internal structure, ongoing, habitual, repeated" ...think of that in the future ... as in: "we will be used to washing our own clothes when we wake up in two centuries from now" ... or better? "we will be beating down the doors every day". I guess "Goundhog Day" was imperfective in a sense as is some poetry that repeats. English doesn't have an imperfective aspect nor does it have verbs with a grammatical future. Still, one can express the idea.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Imperfective_aspect