Shooting the Breeze

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Standing under the bus shelter in the rain,
Reading yesterday’s Wall Street Journal,
The bell tower chimed in the distance,
A train whistle blew,
The sky opened up,
The clouds roared,
Dogs barked,
The streetlight flickered,
The gutters flowed,
Leaves gathered at my feet,
The Wind screamed,
And my bus arrived.

I got on.
“Lovely night isn’t it?” said the driver.

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