Monday, April 9, 2007
There is a storm brewwing outside tonight.
I can hear the trees brushing their shaggy arms against each other, and waving their scratch fingers through their hair. The chimes I hung in the tree outside our bedroom window, are playing a soft dancing tune. If I stare through the glass I can view the bats doing cartwheels in the cool night air.
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2 comments:
You are such a poet, vanishing.
Bats...ugh!
At least it's not a snowstorm....and don't you just love a good rain storm?
Very lyrical.
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