Something magical about the first rains, especially when it's drought conditions in the midst of wildfires season. Something magical, too, about the foods of this holiday time. Tomorrow is the Day of Gratitude and there will feasts for the fortunate with seats at the table. The mashed potatoes will be whipped & airy. Each word a celebration. And smiles verdant.
The air takes over and moves itself over sidewalks. Little ones excited by parades, wishing to be seen,
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We're not allowed inside Antigua, so sink the failing mainsails in the ruin of their wake--one could not foresee our fate, a throttle jolts the terrific insinuations of my heart
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