Blue has been watching. When I look him in the eye, he rolls.
I do the same. He's right. This is great.
A richness of sound and texture and aroma.
We stay awhile. Sunlight lifts from us, rises up the trunks, into the crowns, and higher still until it tints the clouds.
Language can be overrated.
copyright 2010 J.O'Brien, all rights reserved
