Come Rain and High Water

It’s early December and today after months and months of dry arid weather, there is hope of rain. Come dusk to twilight however, so far my hopes are riding the wind. Not a drop as yet. But I'll wait.

Twilight is perhaps the worst hour to write anything. The pixies, gnomes and featherlike felines are tugging at the seems of your consciousness and influencing the tilt of every word. You could swing from delicate ecstasy to melancholy faster than a batter on first base. But I am becoming course. I started in such finery :)

I just saw a movie where the rhythm and light of Provence are still influencing my soul. I'll let it swing a bit longer before I have to submit to harsher truths.

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