“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Sunday, February 26, 2017
Time wasted weeding facts
I smelt the rain first
before I heard it
rolling closer;
miles before I felt it
hanging in the air,
hours before I saw the first
drops staining ground
under the built up
barometric pressure.
It shows
my doppler doesn't need
a downward gaze at holographic
projections or need to perform
a critical up-date.
By Ebenezer Kinnersley-Electric Air thermometer c. 1763; J. Mynde (sc.) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Tres (trace)
Water Today, warm raindrops glass blurs, the blurry glassy, sharp sparkles sugar. Behind Evening, it was good. Leaves all turned into shadow...
-
1. Of my Soul a street is: Preternatural Pic- abian tricktrickclickflidk-er garner of starfish Picasso...
-
This world is not for breath for feelings also come and go. As hard and light as Push and pull Go. Busy hands and bees-electricity, alter...
-
Today seems like a good day to burn a bridge or two. The sky resembles a backlit canopy with holes punched in it. In California...
Nice it is. Qurani wazifa for rizq
ReplyDelete