between sleep and teatime

and the clouds will do whatever you want them to. as long as you give them enough time.

tempests have no paitence. they cannot stand still and bloated, tracing circles like cyclones meandering from coast to coast. terriers of meteorology, they are ferocity without weight.

nonetheless
this day brings bucketfuls of sunshine, splashed on trees and sweat lines. we weave through shadelines, sprawl on grass and perfection is so close it makes me shiver.