I watch the ripples change their size
But never leave the stream
Of warm impermanence
And so the days float through my eyes
But still the days seem the same
And these children that you spit on
As they try to change their worlds
Are immune to your consultations
They're quite aware of what they're goin' through

Thursday, June 5, 2008

On the cottage on the shore of a dark Scottish Lake

So this morning was the kind of storm Jed is waiting for. The kind of storm that makes religious folks ask their gods just what they did wrong to deserve such wrath.

The lightning wasn't as intense as the story. Although with each strike the windows rattled. I'm sure a few of my trees were hit. I'll need to see what's been damaged when I go home tonight.

And isn't it a fun feeling to get in the shower as the booming is going on?

It didn't last a long as the storm in the story, nor was it as fierce or directed, and there was a lot of rain. I mean, a lot of rain. Flooded yard lot of rain.

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