WINTER’S PROSE TOO
Tattered and battered charcoal-gray wintered limbs reach and wiggle for the warmth of the sun; through a silver-gray winters pall; winters old and wintering in the yard.
WINTER’S PROSE TOO
Tattered and battered charcoal-gray wintered limbs reach and wiggle for the warmth of the sun; through a silver-gray winters pall; winters old and wintering in the yard.
A silver-gray pall has again draped over the peninsula; casting deeply and moodily the impression of tropical depression. Commuters sluice their wary ways through the juicy film clinging to the surfaces of the avenues. Pellets of precipitation rattle heavily on the skylight overhead. The birds are silent, while the shiny wet leaves of the verdant canopy of the wood waggle to the tune of variable breezes.