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Posts Tagged ‘rain’

My chocolate lab
howls at early risers, claws
grinding against bark.
I whistle from my tent
stepping alone
into a circle of tall pines,
brush thick, black.
Rain had become more
than rain. I swim through fog
heavy as steam, whistle again.
Silence deeper than a grave
buckles my knees.
The heart’s enemy
tugs tender stitching
till nearby twigs crack,
the familiar swish of a tail.

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It takes a little faith.
Doesn’t matter how many you plant,
you need to sustain it
put in the elbow dirt
and nurture it to get a blossom.
Over time rejections will come
mistakes will happen
but spray some Round Up and press on.
Rain will attempt to drown it
Sun will strive to bake it
but only after it’s tested can it bloom.

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Rain

People say to dance in the rain…but you never see anyone doing it.

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No one prays about weather as much as Minnesotans do. We live in the land of unpredictability 24/7. You can’t plan ahead anything outdoors without hoping it doesn’t decide to rain or blow everyone away. The weather men aren’t right enough to trust them, yet they are all you’ve got.

Winter usually means the hope of a snow day for schools and the switch of complaining it’s too hot, to being too cold. We had the warmest winter ever(most of us didn’t even call that winter since it only got in the negative degrees once) and people were still complaining that it was cold at 40 degrees. Are you kidding me? That is a blessing of the ages, and still they are unsatisfied. Move to California, cause it ain’t gettin any better folks.

Personally, this is one of my favorite places in the world. I love to travel, but I always come back here. There is nothing more peaceful to me than driving through those familiar one-laned country hills, passing farms with grazing cattle and wives hanging clothes on the line; fishing with my dad by the shore of a lake; and laying in the cool grass after a long day of baling hay.

I’ve realized today how facinated I am with the wind. We never see it like the rain. We only know it’s there because of the branches wobbling like a baby’s arms. We feel it like a soft blanket on our cheeks and hear its presence…but we are blind to its face.

We are as blind to people as we are the wind. We see with eyes of assumption, not of knowledge. We see what we have experience with, not of what we know. Even those we know and love keep secrets as hidden as the wind. The day we start paying attention is the day our sight changes forever.

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