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One dark day the trees began a trumpet sound. We sat listening patiently; the sky was near. And I felt the trembling motion. We ran out to see the future from the ground. People died - and people risen - everywhere. We held hands and made a circle, quietly, from the ground. We returned and set the table by the door. (Try it to make it for holidays. Hang onto corduroy jeans and the late magazines that sit side by side. What did it mean? White yellow curtains and boxing uncertainty. If it sounds silly or markedly simple. Or what did you say?) Please fill in the fields below and click SUBMIT to send it to your friend.
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