The crack of thunder breaks the silence. Rumbling across the atmosphere it shakes the earth with its grumpiness. The soft pelt of rain falls upon the earth, the promise of renewal is birthed in each drop. Thus, begins life anew.
Spring is some time off, the winter air is nowhere to be found. The promise of an early spring is a faux dream that will fail to be realized. It is a cruel game that is played upon us each year.
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Published by frontporchmusings694846020
I am a good ole country boy residing in North Mississippi. I love to read, fish, hunt, hike and go to garage sales. Flea markets are a passion of mine. I read anything, but some of my favorites are: Dean Koontz, Robert Frost, Emily Dickinson, T.S. Eliot, Shakespeare, and I possess a fondness for the writings of William Faulkner and Mark Twain. If I am forced to choose, I prefer baseball to football. I enjoy Alabama football (Roll Tide)! My baseball teams include: The Colorado Rockies and Boston Red Sox.
I am divorced, the father of two daughters and live by myself with Chunk and Roscoe (my dogs).
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