Sunday, December 16, 2007


It had just stopped raining. The windows were misty and the sun, too reluctant to let go of the last raincloud, hung about lazily low in the sky. She opened the windows and let a little breeze play with the netter curtains. A fresh mud, wet mud smell perused the late afternoon air. She soaked it up. A drifty, fresh, wet green filled the hollow within her. Lost, sleeping parts of her soul were waking up. She felt like listening to music. Music of the clouds and of their silence. She ran out into the lawn. Blades of grass cutting through the layers of dust on her mind. Barefoot on wet grass. She lay down to stare at a lonely drop of rain run down the spine of a blade of grass and lose itself in her hair. A crystal drop, with a bit of the sun trapped in it. As a slight, prancing, capering wind blew, it shook the leaves on the tree. Now, it rained where the shelter had been. She laughed a little. She didn't know why. A grey brown film had been lifted off the trees, the leaves, the mud, the birds and their nests. All the dust washed away with the first rain...

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