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Monday, July 27, 2015

Before the storm

Out of words and out of time
Silence writes a moving rhyme
Nothing spoken, nothing heard
Just some movements  from a bird

Skies are quiet ground is dry
Clouds are ruling in the sky
Something challenging coming near
Rounds of thunder soon we'll hear.

Climbing temperatures  baking day
Sizzling rocks along the way
Charging elements making storm
Cooler breezes touch the warm

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