Storm Squall

retreating clouds

i see the the dawn breaking with scattered low clouds having discharged their rain upon the lands and city;

cleansing the air,

giving even the dusty corners a renewed purity as doesthe street washer as it goes about its task like a mindlessjuggernaut without feeling or compassion;

even the birds sought shelter from the cleansing moisture, now do they enjoy the comfort that the healingwaters have delivered freely to them;

having brought a new life and a new opportunity, does chance renew, invigorate, and supply us with a wonderful sense of being;

there is a new hope in the air,

a freshness smelled, a new awareness, a fabulous hope and expectancy racing into the hearts, minds, and bodies of all living things;

when breathed in we find the expectancy exhilarating, seemingly, where nothing can touch within ourselves; this joy, this passion, this savoring of the moment which we
might lock within ourselves forever;

this is ours to share or keep secretly locked away or captured for the future in a picture; ours, to trade as a fascinating story, or the gift of a poem,
secreted as a valuable treasure, or left to despair without a second glance as we are some times too busy to experience or savor such a joyous moment;

we often find ourselves gazing at retreating clouds; more often, grateful they are departing, not realizing the most precious of gifts were placed before our feet or chanced to fall upon our shoulders.

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