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This morning the sky really looked like spring, a truer blue and the clouds were small, fluffy, non-threatening. It hasn't lasted because the wind picked up and blew in higher, more solid cloud.
The forsythia outside my office window is about to burst into a yellow scream. The buds look like pursed mouths stifling a yawn.
The hummingbird is still MIA. I hope he found a warm pocket somewhere and will be back soon, I miss him.
I'm procrasinating, I'm really good at that. Luckily there's nothing urgent on the agenda. I suppose I could be sketching out my next 30/30 poem - bummer.
The forsythia outside my office window is about to burst into a yellow scream. The buds look like pursed mouths stifling a yawn.
The hummingbird is still MIA. I hope he found a warm pocket somewhere and will be back soon, I miss him.
I'm procrasinating, I'm really good at that. Luckily there's nothing urgent on the agenda. I suppose I could be sketching out my next 30/30 poem - bummer.
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