Rain this evening, but over now, and the rich scent of summer is heavy in the air. Birch trees stirred, spill withheld tears gently onto sodden ground, and on rain soaked panes the last drops
Old lady hunched in the pew curled on herself like a French Horn, arthritic hip all that keeps Trombone husband from sliding proud about town with her, arm in arm.
You took me to a world where kites dance in the sky: steady box kites watching over Chinese dragons, diving, swooping, swirling, and silver twin-tailed stunt kites leap and swish through the air,