Thursday, November 27, 2008

Bench Break

The 6 p.m. sun is low and warm. The wind sighs in the trees and birds sing--wonder what they are? I hear a dog barking in the distance. A sweet smell from a flowering tree nearby. The lake glimmers across a field and through the trees to the west. Bare hills raise their heads behind--or their backs, with vegetation on them like lichen on a stone. -2007-

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