Monday, August 27, 2012

On the Verge

*Slowly you open your eyes, blinking once, twice as your mind clears from the fog of sleep. You glance around taking in the view from your place on the porch swing. The gentle breeze has stilled, and lazy grey clouds blanket the sky where the sun shone brightly just hours before. As you breathe in deep you catch a hint ... the faint smell. Fresh. Clean. It's coming, rolling in from the west. The anticipation is building, almost an excitement, with a promise of something new. A break in the warmth, refreshment for the dry cracked ground. Change is coming. But in this moment you sit, reveling in the quiet ... stillness, the stolen moments between the seasons. Peace in the in between. Waiting for rain.*


 

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