Six days of rain, six days of water dripping on the roof, six days of grey. Not good for one so guided by the life of nature. It reaches into my shop through gaps in weathered boards each day. It pierces silence in my darkened bedroom every night. It’s out there and I am in here, though I must pass through it with reluctance and even walls and doors and windows that form my solitude cannot keep its presence from penetrating, raping my soul.
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"I will breakfast from the cupboard where uneaten dreams are kept"
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Not a cloud in the sky Susan.
Had I the moral strength to rise above them, my sky as well would be clear and pure.
No clouds here. It’s warm and dry. I thought we were finished with the air conditioning for the year, but we used it for a little while today.