On one of those days
when it’s about to rain
but it doesn’t,

like on a mountain top
standing against the wind
and succeeding,
thorns of winter emerging from your skin,
engendering a certain pain,
that you cant help but cherish.
the little trees,
like long blonde hairs on a windy beach
struggling against the winds,

plants whispering, “talk, talk, talk..”
and living in the moment
or at least trying to,
while seasons go by
unnoticed.
what is noticed is just the rain
how it isn’t there.
it’s euphoric.
you might want to jump off in ecstasy
but don’t.
wait for the rain.
just a little rain.

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