Clouds

This unseasonable overcast lends the day the air of a Gothic romance. The colors of summer flowers are muted by dim light, and the pines whisper as the oak leaves rustle with each gust of wind. Woodpeckers squawk their disapproval of evening's premature onset. A short time ago, there was still some blue in the sky, and the plentiful clouds were white. Now all is gray and silver. Early this morning I saw the sun emerge and brighten ground dampened by brief showers, and the smell of wet asphalt overpowered even the scent of the gardenias. This evening smells like anticipated rain. I'm listening for the first drops. When they fall I will go out to greet them. Our stormy embrace will be passionate.


( Sunday Verse )