Awashed

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For the first time I can see my breath outside. I blow out several breaths for the marking of this transitory event. The weekend was awash in Fall’s showers. The rain stripped the stubborn trees of their tenacious brown and yellow, leaving them raw in their nakedness.  It scrubbed clean the sidewalks of tracked mud, wiped off the modest lace of dust atop sturdy plant shoulders. Dribbled puddles melted across the ground collecting the last of Summer’s pollen and needles. Grey masses of vapor hovered across the top of our Valley, swirling, circling, daring to drop down and touch humanity. It was near divine.

BethAwashed
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