“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Showing posts with label Doppler. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Doppler. Show all posts
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.
Saturday, August 8, 2015
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
And then...
Change is like that strong smell of cut grass or chopped wood that stops you still. Patterns, a symbol can be an illegible sign, at first...
-
1. Of my Soul a street is: Preternatural Pic- abian tricktrickclickflidk-er garner of starfish Picasso...
-
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...
-
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...