This doggy, soggy winter. It has rained more than 30 days straight and that means 10 more days and we're going Biblical. Even Noah only had to wait out 44. Spring is coming.
We go about our days medicated with coffee. It is a window that draws in whatever daylight exists out there between the raindrops. Movies and books a drug too--tricking us with the illusion of life and activity. There is something happening, somewhere in the world beyond these pillows and blankets which we burrow down into for whole months. They are a like a bandage on a wounded man. They keep us barely alive. We eat avacados and tomatoes from Southern California--a rude and brash cousin who has too much and appreciates nothing--the bright fruit injects a bit of summer into our winter days.
The dog sleeps in its chair and wakes once a day impatient to be put on a leash and led out into the wet night in search of the doggy news that is printed at the base of every sign post and shrub. My eyelashes catch drops of fog and I think perhaps I see a rainbow. A promise that June will soon be here with its roses and long, clear days. I hesitate to wipe my eyes so that I can live the dream a litte longer.
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