Rain in the morning

Dawn was three hours away and in rain. The birds sensed it all night along the way, from the tree of big leaves and fell silent. Sleep was transience reminder, symbols.

I and the birds slept little, a few bird winks interspersed with dreams and fears in sleep- in fat shirts and funny, transience reminders- earth pots of bones, that left belly pain.

Beauty tokens emerged in luminous leaves, some praises of beauty, some let-me-downs. The rain, now here, now there ,prohibits walks, keeps me deliciously key-board happy at sunless six.

The train hoots did not pierce the morning .The snails walked my garden up and down quietly like nobody’s business . I am back at the key-board amid faint heart-murmurs.

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