heat then wind then gray skies and baby bits of rain. earlier this week the whoompf of fireworks, the following morning the rumble of thunder. this morning sunshine, heat coming later, breezy breezes blowing through the open door. leftover leaves and camellia blossoms. my standing place.
i was gonna say more but no. it all falls down.
i think that's enough.
There is only the rhythm, and nothing more; we don't need plot, we don't need people in our stories, the rhythm is enough.ReplyDelete
they are, after all, our stories. no rules.Delete
i think soReplyDelete
continuing to do so. becoming more than enough.Delete
baby bits of rain... baby bits of words. so perfectly lovely. xxReplyDelete
aww, they were just baby bits. :)Delete
"It all falls down."ReplyDelete
But we have to get up again. Over and over... Tiring though it may be....
yes indeed. always. always.Delete