Saturday, April 21, 2007

on a Saturday

awoke to the sun, the real sun, not that pale wintry light, but the real kind that burns yellow and bright, baking the bed, and we awoke in our arms, content in the warmth. coffee on the porch and rolled up pantlegs and set to work in the garden that has been creaking and creeping and rustling to life nights this week, and we threw up the sashes and opened the house to spring, and they left to search for deer antlers and birds in the woods while the cat played queen of the castle.


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