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Roads not yet glistening, rain slight,
Broken clouds darken after thinning away. Where they drift, purple cliffs blacken. And beyond -- white birds blaze in flight. Sounds of cold-river rain grown familiar, Autumn sun casts moist shadows. Below Our brushwood gate, out to dry at the village Mill: hulled rice, half-wet and fragrant. Unsatisfied? Search for more:Other Cool Sites:Hot Arts & Stage NewsLyrics Catalogue Sound Tracks Guide Guide to Serials and Shows English Subtitles For DivX Movies Hundreds of Cooking Recipes Over 5000 Cocktails Recipes Cool Online Encyclopedia Cellulars Descriptions and Reviews Algorithms Dictionary Funny Jokes and Anecdotes. Usenet Newsgroups Reader |