Joy Without Reason

Now upon his return, but I she takes a note it's more appropriate. To the flashing gender ever changing mood, flushed of face impending thunder soon. And where the garden there it's always quite. Except for bushes hands are parting. And deep rooted evenly spaced, a treetop bends it's head like lovers moving. The curtains hang out side my bedroom window. An inward breath her curtains blow up outward. Two sparrows dance our dance and fly south westward. The white magnolias fade to nothing on the trees, and moss hangs down the rain it finally comes. Like a heavy bag of sand like a dropscene.