Wet Grass - written circa 2003

listening to the sounds of a friday afternoon and drinking smirnoffs to tune me in.
Wet patches of grass and mud; a small micro plane buzzing over above.
A cool breeze momentarily brushing my face; dispersed clouds dripping towards the east.
Im thinking of some other afternoon, like this one. just as cool and the sun just about to touch the horizon. observing the scene with the same detached wonder.

The leaves on the plum tree burst into existence in such a short period it made me think how fast spring is approaching. The beautiful white blossoms have just about all dropped off or browned out.