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This is a english sonnet about rain and gardening |
| Misty morning interlude I don’t know if I can really explain On a misty morning, all shades grey As a sprinkle proceeds the rain Seeping it’s way into a weary day Softly running from my cabin roof, watching my artful plans blundered collecting in puddles as if in proof storm marches on unencumbered Thinking on a long and lonely week keeping company with fitful weather Ruminating that what I truly seek a good rain will likely make better Impounding my faultless seedlings reaching out for it’s gentle needling |