The dimmest of mornings ends a night rarely still. Rain and more rain drips and drums, and the gray day arrives un-greeted by any sound of birds-- not even the harsh caws of crows. Wet has stripped the mulberry of most of its remaining yellow leaves which now lie strewn across the sodden lawn. Once the sun returns it will reach my window almost unfiltered each afternoon. I suddenly realize that little more than a week remains until the winter solstice. Time flies when you're having weather.
( Sunday Verse )
( Sunday Verse )