republic of the drowned
i have been working without a day off for more than two weeks now, with maybe another two weeks to go. last friday after my dinner at the lonesome pine house, i was sitting on the patio watching a storm roll in. lightning flashed in an irregular but frequent barrage above the trees, and the wind swirled among the pine boughs. i lit a cigarette and sipped a lone-star in solitude, my company: the frogs and toads. all around me in the woods they chirruped and jumped in the leaves and duff, performing an exultant ceremony--part supplication, part celebration--for the rain. they wanted it so bad. i couldnt believe how good it all felt and sounded outside, and wondered if i could finish my vices before the rain came. i was half way through my tobacco product when it began to fall, slow at first, in big, isolated drops. before long it was too much and i had to extinguish the smoke, grab my beer, and run for the door of my house. those amphibians.