Lies

On this cloudy morning there are growing patches of blue, the sort of hue that is soft and bright at the same time. Though beneath the sheet of cloud is a grey that deepens to steel, the leading edge is a brilliant white, as if it is the pages of a new book ready for any curious eye. So, on this day that could bring rain or sunshine, I'm hoping for both, for the chance of a rainbow and to feel so much more because the day is blessed with clouds.

Light grew steadily outside until the curtains glowed just the same as stained glass. Kevin stuck his head behind the fabric to survey what the day might bring. The road was slick with water, though the puddles remained quite still, no hint of rain still falling. Above the clouds were still grey but without the denseness of yesterday, allowing patches of blue to form.

In good moods a writer may paint words that are fine wine and soft music; words that contain more healing medicine than all the drugs created by man. They are clear water over ro