Woken with a headache, loud complaint against the inflatable mattress on the tiny apartment floor, I stare outside where lightning flashes far away, and wind tousles treetops – knavish heralds of a thunderstorm. Under the streetlights below, brilliant greenery overlays vibrant paint schemes, wood scrollwork no longer seen in mass-produced suburbia, those drab by comparison.
Tag: Carol Edwards
Three sounds I love, stepping out my door: The patter of oncoming rain The splash of a refilled creek The hushed howl of sweeping winds. Perhaps I should have made my place Somewhere near the Pacific And all its rugged glory; But I’d miss the downy waves of green. The tall eucalyptus and pines Rustle