edensgarden's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Arizona in July Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Though wise men at their end know dark is right, because their words had forked no lightning; Do not go gentle into that good night. Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright their frail deeds might gave danced in a green bay, rage, rage against the dying of the light. Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, and learn too late, they grieved it on its way, do not go gentle into that good night. Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, rage, rage against the dying of the light. And you, my father, there on the sad height, curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Last night the sky was full of clouds and the clouds were full of storms. I stood on my front step for an hour and a half and watched the lighting bolt and blanket the sky. Every time the lightning would flash, I could see the layers of the clouds. It was beautiful. Then the rain started to fall. The air was thick with the scent of it, and the dust was wetted with it. We need the rain so badly. I just stood there and let the warm tears from heaven drop on my face. I opened my mouth and let the tears in. My feet were wet, my legs were wet, it didn�t matter. There is nothing like a summer storm. I love Arizona in July. 1:03 p.m. - July 13, 2002 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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