January dribbles - 28
They have a hundred words for rain: Storm-soaked and cold as pain; showered, drenched with blessings; ground needs it; ground’s falling away; drizzle on mist-wreathed trees; Scotch mist we used to say, when unrelenting puddles drooled from skies all dull and gray.
A hundred words to turn the forests green.
A hundred words to turn the forests green.
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