More Rain

Wet.  Mid-summer  has come wet and heavy to the Bethel valley.
Winds start, stop then more rain falling into the great greenery.
Onto also the great piece of machinery bordering our outlines of self:
a country, a county, a city, this town. You. Me. This race. That race.

It seems the revolution has begun.  Will it be violent or peaceful?
You  and I decide.  Every day.  In word or deed, everyday.
Then more rain.  We are so small here, even so.....