Three-six-five

To the one lone rain cloud pouring its soul onto the land,

I feel your pain and loneliness.  It’s a tough world when all the other clouds make fun of you for your premature expenditure.  Perhaps you were making a statement.  Perhaps there was a lone thirsty grove of fall aster under your canopy.  Perhaps you were tired of carrying such a heavy load in such a dry climate.  Whatever your circumstances, keep your cloud head up.

-Steve

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