Refracted Neurons

Fall is the end of porch swings and blackberries, a riotous end of wind-blown rain of comfort falling away in red and orange. The tendril of sorrow that sprouts in me will not grow.                            It is not the growing season. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ I haven't written poetry in a while, so hopefully, this little snippet will prime the pump.  Unless the pump has frozen over, which is possible.  It's sooooooo cold here already.  

Happy Inktober, I guess.  I don't really draw a whole lot, but   Mighty Jack and Zita the Spacegirl  inspired me to attempt the scene with the bloom cannon. I'm not 100% happy with it, but look how cute Madrigal turned out:

Source: https://pixabay.com/images/id-2354583/ ”You think he’s gonna show?” Jose yelled in Charlotte’s ear.   ”Oh, he’ll show,” Charlotte stood on her toes, straining to see above the crowd.  One hundred conversations overlapped each other in the Gold City Hall, bouncing off the walls until the vowels and consonants became a single roar.  ”You would think a mistress would at least get a better seat,” she complained to herself. ”What?” Jose leaned into her, his elbow poking her ribs. ”I said, ’You would think they’d have brought in extra seats!’” ”Yeah, but no one cares about some nobody Healers!  Look!” Jose pointed.   A woman with coiffed blonde attired in a navy pants suit strode into the front row.  ”Janice,” Charlotte thought, ”She sleeps in a separate room.” Behind Janice was a young man in a Mage school uniform, his hair cut with military precision.  ”Ugh.” Seeing the mayor’s son, Orville was always jarring to Ch...