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Current Mood: comtemplative
17 years ago
I'm still here, I promise.
Nights like tonight make me grateful to have a balcony. I have the door open and my window open... it's 62 degrees out there, and it feels fantastic, I love it.
The night is quiet, but far from still, and the wind is playing just a bit amongst empty tree branches. The whispers of spring are on the tips of the tongues of the trembling grass and the flirting breeze. It's only a matter of time. The Bradford Pears are due to burst into short-lived and vividly fragrant bloom any day now, but one last frost will steal them from the branches of their trees, which will quickly turn green to follow and usher in the rest of the blossoms and leaves and greenery everywhere else.
Sometimes, I love being a writer of sorts.
Nights like tonight make me grateful to have a balcony. I have the door open and my window open... it's 62 degrees out there, and it feels fantastic, I love it.
The night is quiet, but far from still, and the wind is playing just a bit amongst empty tree branches. The whispers of spring are on the tips of the tongues of the trembling grass and the flirting breeze. It's only a matter of time. The Bradford Pears are due to burst into short-lived and vividly fragrant bloom any day now, but one last frost will steal them from the branches of their trees, which will quickly turn green to follow and usher in the rest of the blossoms and leaves and greenery everywhere else.
Sometimes, I love being a writer of sorts.
