Sometimes It's What You GetIt is cold, it is cold here. The wind has been up, and snow has been falling. The mercury has risen a little, but not with any amount of mirth. We are already in the grinding season of cold, somehow, dim evenings and breath seen. I have pulled down some pesto from the freezer.
I feed it a little heat and stir it to turn it green again, and coat wide noodles of homemade pasta with it under a mane of shredded parmesan. In one corner of the kitchen table, it's summer again.
All content under copyright by the author. Dancing is permitted. The strange deltic glyphs in the sand under tidal flow are a pleasure to watch in their deepening. Offer not valid in Kansas. We put it down and then we lost it. It all happens in the corner of the eye. Commentary accepted at pen@goob.com, although the traps are agressive and the pointy bits simply drip with dark liquour. We have a dog, but we do not own it. Thank you.