coffee colored


it rained all day.  the water collected in the low spots in the yard and the ducks mucked around in it like they do.   i felt at home in the rain, quieted by the rain, thankful for the rain to douse last nights inaugural campfire.  i walked the dogs by the river, just me and my coffee, the river mimicking the color of my coffee with almond milk, the way it is when the water collects mud and silt on its way down down down the hills.  the grass is tall enough now that the water sneaks up, wicks into my rolled up jeans and somehow down into my boots.  i don't mind, no.  neither do the dogs, soaked the bone.  they were happy to be wrestling,  skirting and darting in the grass, little daredevils, the grass tall enough to hide their bodies, one tackle and tumble after another.   i wore the raincoat and the mud boots, my northwest washington uniform, but took the hood off so i could hear the sound of water hitting the ground and the rivers surface.  i always notice how people flinch and contort their faces in the rain, as if they don't like the rain.  i don't do that. i like the rain.  i was born here.  i belong here.  it just makes sense.

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