Silhouetted Sky.

It is raining.
I am tempted to write a poem.
But I remember what it said on one rejection slip: After a heavy rainfall, poems titled RAIN pour in from across the nation.

-- Sylvia Plath, The Journals of Sylvia Plath 1950 - 1962


Today was a grey day, full of rain and mist and being indoors looking out. There were no clouds in the sky, no glimmer of sun trying to sneak its way through, only the whisper of blue. A day for quiet contemplation.