Poetry Project 2017: Day 128

Moisture
taking the hard edge off,
softening the air.
Clouds
covering the harsh sunlight
with smooth gray wool.
Breeze
blowing the smells of trees
and flowers to all.
Insects
singing quietly for now,
seranading the night.
It doesn’t rain everday
during rainy season.
Sometimes
it’s just slow and soft,
like a pause.
Nature rests for a minute,
her harsh edges dampened.
Before it’s time for typhoons
and heat.
Rainy season,
the beauty of green
under grey.

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