rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,
rejectomorph
flying_blind

Perfect

No more than mist and sprinkles manage to soak everything. Gusts of breeze make branches thump the house. Wisps of fog descend and wreath pines in transient shrouds. For hours, the night shows signs of turning fully blustery, but it never succeeds in doing so. The trees continue their slow drip of gathered water, interrupted by the occasional gusts which cause them to shake great, noisy showers, like a pack of big, wet dogs. The air is rich with the scents of damp grass and pine wood, and is surprisingly mild. When gray light begins to reveal the sodden landscape, the rain quickens at last, and drops go dancing across the shiny pavement where the glistening magenta dogwoods are reflected. It's going to be a perfect day.
Subscribe

  • Reset Forty-Eight, Day Thirty-One

    Sunday became another day I didn't feel like cooking or eating an actual meal, so I snacked on chips in the afternoon, and later I microwaved a…

  • Reset Forty-Eight, Day Thirty

    Saturday I plagued myself with a large dinner, and it was done earlier than I'd expected, and was not as good as I'd hoped, but I still overate and…

  • Reset Forty-Eight, Day Thirty-Nine

    There was some napping Friday, and some being awake, but I recall little of either. Most likely I didn't pay attention while awake, preferring to…

  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
    Help
  • 0 comments