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Still Dry [Nov. 8th, 2004|08:51 pm]
The persistent gray had me waiting for rain all afternoon. It never came. Now the day feels like unscribed slate tossed into a dark lake. Maybe tonight the rain will arrive, with a sound as soft as the footsteps of those small rodents who cross the yard's autumn carpet of leaves. If the stars are to be concealed, I want compensation. Weep for the forest!