Weather on Good Friday

It so often is stormy and dark on Good Friday.  It has struck me tonight that it is almost a reenactment,  dark cloods burst of sun trees with broken branches looking decidedly poorly and wind swept.  There are no cars reving up and down the street and I am typoing in the almost dark room.  I started the day in the dark got up to work on a project but instead lit candles, toasted hot cross buns, and drank coffee, as slowly pink light touched the bottom of the low cloud giving way to an overcast day.  It has an air of foreboding and friends I have spoken to during the day have trouble at work, injured themselves, feel flat, overwhelmed,  are grieving a loss.    The weather representing the psyche, mirroring the religious event, somehow the primitive has caught me today and my twentieth century mind set has given way to the outside influence

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