With the first warm day of spring–not counting January–how can I smell the lilacs still tightly bound up in their buds?
And why the sudden avalanche of workload in the shop, as if pictures hung in winter must be taken down like velvet drapes.
The heater just hissed out of propane like it knows something that I don’t.
And lo, the purple flowering weeds grin up at me from the doorstep.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
niccceeee.
The velvet drape thing: straight out of “Gone With the Wind”