On a hillock by the park's entrance, a three-iron shot from my back door, stands a cluster of pines, in the city confines, and at the foot of these pines a bed of needles burnished a burnt sienna, beckoning me to lie down in their autumnal comfort, their soft cushion with last year's fragrances and brittle repose, so yielding, so inviting.
But I keep walking.
-
Today has been a banner day: solid work prospects and a Washington Post Style Invitational three-peat : Report From Week 749 in which we ask...
-
It's not year's end, but we're nearly halfway there. Here's my running list of books read so far this year, in the order of ...
-
We know society exhibits moral outrage over serial killings, as well it should. But why the widespread apathy over the death throes of the s...
3 comments:
That was a long, but beautiful sentence, PK.
Sounds like a tranquil setting.
P.S. take out the comma after long. sorry old chap
aw, come on! go back and lay down on them....
yea, i do love happy endings...smile
Post a Comment