Monday, March 28, 2011


When it is not raining but did rain before, the mud carries the smell of unrest up into the smoke-browned dusk. What does one say after such momentous inhale? Is it best to start with sorry, or do soggy pants spattered with dirt remind us enough of our transgressions. Are we wasting time here under clouds that won't part, are we wasting, when we are not good enough how do we say something new? Or is that rustle when it is not raining anymore enough to drown a whisper.