The mail carrier came just before noon when I was staring out the window. I was not writing, reading or listening to anything and just sitting at the desk and wondering what the naked white bark tree was standing so strikingly there in the center over the branch and by the church's high roof framing an imposing backdrop on top of a hilltop under a sinister sky. The roof changes colors every hour reflected by the light and dark of day. Sometimes, it looks bright and blond like the high brush growing wild along the banks of the branch that rushes free from Timrod creek and flows by a trail covered in dry and wet leaves through the dense woods and into Jeffries creek. It really is a nice, serene view...
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorCHARLES PEARSON Archives
December 2020
Categories |