Warm January Afternoon

It has been raining incessantly since I woke up. Probably before as well, but that does not concern me right now. A heavy grey is the paint colour of the day. In vision and in mood.
That inbetween "safe" color to wear. Most people look cadaverous in most shades of grey, except maybe the very darkest shade, just bordering on black. Charcoal works for me, paired with something black. A cool breathable linen a-line skirt, a wool pleated dirndal, or soft warm velvet pants.

Have been editing all morning. Played some piano at noon, to release the cobwebs of my soul.
Better now. Thinking about how to present my poetry in a way to express both it's universal and individual appeal. As writers, is it our responsibility to touch all souls. Or, just the one's who speak our "very unique language". Everyone is unique. I just enjoy the choices of words, as a painter can choose a hundred shades of yellow. We can fine-tune our expressions, to more closely convey what it is we were feeling in that place, on that day.

The wind is howling, around three howls a minute, in a circuitous path, cyclonic, spiraling.
Like a slinkey bounces apart, with centrifugal force,then joins it's own shiny self at rest.
Wind, like rain, non-stop movement of moisture and air, brings reason to dance and play:honour this blessed day!

Brown Rice spiral pasta primavera, a lovely light lunch.
Wondrous Day!

Kathryn