(no subject)
this morning i watch from my second-story seat on that rumbling beast as the morning spreads across the sky like a secret whispered from the horizon. the mountains are the first to hear, and they begin to blush with the knowledge that only they contain. each tree spreads the news with every outstretched arm until the entire sky can see their commotion. orange and gold tear through heavy sheets of the darkest blue casting fledgling fingers around my face. even those who lay asleep must now know of the sunny-day scandal. i wish that i had the time to learn the entire tale, but my day is carefully cataloged and constrained and there are certainly no empty slots for any but the most passing of time-wasting blues.
end.
end.