The clouds seem to be moving from the west to east this morning, only a pale patch of pink lights the horizon as the smoky remnants of the night sky brush past. It is hot already, I sit on the patio in the pale light and the birdsong is tropical, full and intense. I think to when my life felt that way too, full, intense, heated with the dampness of passion and feel movement covering up the taste of if going too fast, too thick. I watch the pale patch, trying to hold onto it, let it give me inspiration for the day, hope if you will, but the clouds aren’t slowing down.
But as I watched the pink rose disappear and the smoky haze take over hiding what might have been left, something else did happen. The light of the day arrived, turning what was gray to pale dove, hinting at blue skies. It isn't the same as having a beautiful sunrise, a smile from the earth right to my heart, but it isn't as bad as constant storms either. I guess it is just like life.
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