The recent rain are now just reflection of what is gone. Where there were puddles of life and wet, now there are cracks and void. The birds even breathe heavier, move less.

I tried to mow my weeds yesterday. Wearing a mask in a vain attempt to filter the air. I looked more like I should be holding up a 7-11, not holding a mower. The mower stalled with the weight of the grass, I stalled from the weight of the dust and debris in the air. One Zrytec later and a good night sleep, my eyes are swollen and my voice is harsh.

The ground still cries for wet and I cry for the loss of what I used to be able to do.

Do what you can while you can on your journey†nada te turbe†jim