I heard the Ocean move through the new spring foliage, unlike the clink of winter’s bare branched battles. The wind is no longer a howl, nor even a whistle, but a wave crashing against no shore (or so we hope, lest some tree fall immodestly).
Random Thoughts of a Reluctant Trucker
I heard the Ocean move through the new spring foliage, unlike the clink of winter’s bare branched battles. The wind is no longer a howl, nor even a whistle, but a wave crashing against no shore (or so we hope, lest some tree fall immodestly).
