The poetry of drizzle is the poetry of things that are barely and nearly not. A presence so delicate and undemanding it neighbors absence. Travels soft-footed as gazelle, declines to advertise. No thunderclaps no lightning bolts of publicity. Only whispers in a language of silver sentences. Listen. And try not to confuse subtlety with nothingness. Try not to waste time. A drizzle of moments is the sum of our days.

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