9:01 AM 2/3/04 A journal entry from the Valley of the Sun
RAINY DAY
I looked out of my window today and this is what I saw:
Clouds curling like gray smoke across the face of the Superstitions. Years before the voracious Apache hid in the olive drab and stone jumbled recesses of these mountains, hoping to increase their worldly weath to the chagrin and protest of their victims.
A cold Zephyr is blowing the palm trees; the fronds seemed shocked. A lump of blackbirds is huddling together on a line. The doves must be wearing their cote today.
Rain drips unmethodically off a roof unaccustomed to dampness, the drops not really knowing where to run. The rain gutter filled mostly with dust has splits in its seams and precious liquid seeps through at random onto thirsty spots of grass.
It's a gray day with an iron skillet sky, but even the sun needs a day off now and then.
Bluedjin/by Sly
RAINY DAY
I looked out of my window today and this is what I saw:
Clouds curling like gray smoke across the face of the Superstitions. Years before the voracious Apache hid in the olive drab and stone jumbled recesses of these mountains, hoping to increase their worldly weath to the chagrin and protest of their victims.
A cold Zephyr is blowing the palm trees; the fronds seemed shocked. A lump of blackbirds is huddling together on a line. The doves must be wearing their cote today.
Rain drips unmethodically off a roof unaccustomed to dampness, the drops not really knowing where to run. The rain gutter filled mostly with dust has splits in its seams and precious liquid seeps through at random onto thirsty spots of grass.
It's a gray day with an iron skillet sky, but even the sun needs a day off now and then.
Bluedjin/by Sly