the smell of rain drifts with the rumble

the moist breeze cools and the hawk glides touching down. the sky ladened with gray, dips low, heavy with unreleased relief, and the cardinals ignore the predator who watches for something different. the deer already scampered from view results of my clunking and banging about with my additional unloads. the pack of all of two dogs yelp, one high, one low, and carry on as they do everyday this time. you'd think these country pups would figure out that their ruckus is for not. the breeze cools further with each rumble as I ponder the ikea household trinkets with each flip of page the old fashion way as the topography of my hermitage supports but a wee digital signal with ma bell's lines too old to carry more than a dial up. my studio footprint dwindles with each venture south as I downsize my part of the BOX as I dream of finishes for my soon surfaced subfloor (soon in terms of geological movement kind of soon). the sky rumbles and pushes the sun lower still.


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