The yardman at my neighbor’s house next door is mowing. He’s singing too and it’s very very loud. He thinks no one can hear him as he has a monster Skag–a man’s machine–and the car is missing from the neighbor’s driveway.
In my little shop, my barn, I am in my element. Amid the elements themselves as often it rains in. Fresh air eases through the clapboard siding to blow the scent of lilacs in. And blows in as well the sound of song.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology