The yard will be less dusty once the clover grows in. It's a hardy little plant, practically a weed. Thriving in the yellow dirt, more so than in the rich dark fertilized soil. The ladybugs are coming around.

A friend of mine lost someone very close to her, someone I didn't know well but was very fond of.  We haven't talked in years. To attempt to provide comfort would be selfish, I think. The past seeds doubt that choke all future virtue.  A last embrace will stay a last embrace.

Every tear becomes ordinary rain.