Whither thunderstorm?
Where dwells instability?
The night most humid.The sky, most bloody
heat poured from sun as it plunged
into the thick night.The dense breeze rustles
I’m listening for thunder
The sky is quiet.
Seeking?
The Quote Box
The time which we have at our disposal every day is elastic; the passions that we feel expand it, those that we inspire contract it, and habits fill what time remains.
— Marcel Proust 1871–1922The Cat Cam
Travels to NZ
20 Years of 30 poems in 30 days!
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