I like to watch the rain on my windshield as it comes together to run down the glass.
To think that something as old as time is colliding with something so new, so young.
The rubbing together of eras, the brushing if generations. It ties us together: ties us to our ancestors and their ancestors; binds us with the earth and the air and the sea.
The agelessness of water -- it sustained dinosaurs and mammoths, Ancient Greeks and Romans, this seasons tulips.
Our art sustains the soul.
With our fleeting lives we devote what little time we have with the hopeless hope that it will flow on into the next generation.
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I love the sound of rain on the windows. I'll be searching g high and low for signs of new life tomorrow. April showers bring May flowers.
Bss,
Marybeth
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