parked atop a fresh mound of redwood chips, breathe in the gathering scent (cough, cough the air is heavy with smoke from grassfires east of here) homemade sandwhich in hand, work day complete, I am in a favorite spot.
Lush awareness is all around. Criticize please.
Six Pasties cooking at 350 degrees
wind blows hard howling snow whipped, scattered maddening crowds are silenced hush my soul shines BOOYA
Ding! Dong! Colborn gets up walking slowly to the front door"Of course just as I get the seat cushions right who is out on a day like today?" The howling January wind and iced roads outside combined with the toasty warm living room inside lulls Colborn into finally addressing his taxes and now someone has… Continue reading The Return of Lady Alvilda
Wait, wait, wait come on now just for me please won't you be just a little more specific hhhhhmmmm
What? How? Sniff, sniff, sniff.
To exchange the placement of two pieces (or sections) of merchandise
writing, fighting fighting, writing the wordsmith is drained no prose no pose Grey clouds drift on high underneath fall in bloom a heavy sigh so much around abound yet nothing found so i frown the sad clown so i will search my porch perched damn what was i doing?
nature's fingers snap cool, thought provoking mornings gone up the temp scale mercury goes 65, 70, 75, 80 nothing but contrails cross the sky emerging color halted