Taste: blue cheese and Zinfandel, mold and ferment, the Zinfandel does not have enough bite, it washes away, watery. I am becoming ever more particular. I seek an assertive red wine that won't be forgotten.
Touch: the tackiness of waxed fruit, the thin vacuous layer between me and the skin over the life-giving flesh, the tightness between my shoulders from hunching over my keyboard feels like my thighs after a five mile run
Smell: The grocery store aisles evoke memories of the orchard rows, the filled bushels, the cider press, the murky gallons. It's time to eat apples.
Sound: the hound baying in response to the ambulance, an urgent, sad sound hidden in the forest, Should I come to his aid? What would I find? But when the woman comes out from the trail walking her dog there is nothing extraordinary about this scene at all and nothing for me to do but keep driving.
Sight: the crow's feet on trajectory with the wire, it's the take off and landing that are difficult, the flight itself appears effortless, the paragliders laugh at each others' launches and critique their landings but are alone in flight
Extra: I haven't seen my friend for awhile and I keep hearing about his adventures. I begin to wonder: Is he real? Or, just another character? It's time to get out of the house.
Touch: the tackiness of waxed fruit, the thin vacuous layer between me and the skin over the life-giving flesh, the tightness between my shoulders from hunching over my keyboard feels like my thighs after a five mile run
Smell: The grocery store aisles evoke memories of the orchard rows, the filled bushels, the cider press, the murky gallons. It's time to eat apples.
Sound: the hound baying in response to the ambulance, an urgent, sad sound hidden in the forest, Should I come to his aid? What would I find? But when the woman comes out from the trail walking her dog there is nothing extraordinary about this scene at all and nothing for me to do but keep driving.
Sight: the crow's feet on trajectory with the wire, it's the take off and landing that are difficult, the flight itself appears effortless, the paragliders laugh at each others' launches and critique their landings but are alone in flight
Extra: I haven't seen my friend for awhile and I keep hearing about his adventures. I begin to wonder: Is he real? Or, just another character? It's time to get out of the house.