It is a persistent floatation on the glass, the conflict there between passengers & the forecast latest. It is a speech up, & a separation of concept there, there out on the pane, the final season
& the door is closed. We had never opened it & looking through the grass stains on shoes are noticable & even casual. Though that is not the cause, the crowding is
& I about discovery can look through the screen & at the sight with rest. That is music, the height of it 's coming together, the chance to turn it
around. There are the best laid plans if we can search out the morale off of & deep the beaten ship all out & in the open before the cataclysm comes in the wash.
They cleaned the screen, before, & they will do it again. Marigolds would be on the path. It is a pasting spread, the light, it never ends from the bulb & the primary consult.
I will wait. & I can watch the handle if you want.
Only if you want. Do.
The exchange of temperature unfelt bent blades of grass is essence tension to a shift in space, out of Roland's curvaceous horns fugue it arrives to the day in completion, black vs yellow.
Winds roar while the meniscus surface of the rain gage itself can do "so" to the glance bare as it is the effort, out of permanence, as out of the starlit stammered, known &
familiar. More than that, a veritable imprint is like the sound, it is a damage to roll over. The neck is swan-like & the raspberry canes dead. This year's lacking drought. Are wasps though.
Two is a gallery of many layers for this weather, gladness that no shells were brought back here & the decorative spills over by the tunics set up as guards to the crows
