Reading the passing fancy of a stream on the river of a stile, it is in the measure of grasp to those gates of wonder still on my lyre of toasting the far to amazingly spontaneous. A surprise above surprises graced my sleeping venture last evening, it has been on my breath of existence all day long. I dug in the dirt to move the leaves that have piled from winters song. I clipped the trimmery to shake that hillside of its keep on less weed collected and more laughter of the survived the droughts lung.
The hot airs breadth of thought stoved this afternoon on the removal of pickle thinking left. As that is a term to describe death of a flats arranged flowering beds, I spoke to that the clippings as each of every dark hour has a root to route touching possibilities. The harp of stringing mist, a taste of dew or the everglade of California in the smothering lane of dry years, brought the conversation up from the dirt to talk mudslides.
In that trouble of know conversation the simplicity invited the cats to bounce in for the trip on skids. As any good imagination to afforded the bubble of speak comedy, it is the real fill in the blanks. I love the looks, the birds flying or more to say dive bombing the kitten on track, than the lovely shock of sparking an empty core attack.
Roll a stone fancied the conversation with score, that showed the slide a clod on the comb. Down the great slip to speak on the shore, actually it was more like the role to a ball on the bounced of a drum to basket the pow.
Mirror to a side note for sake of notations pause, it is the briefs that stream to the bricks of mortar on the old type fashion of city by the bay. For sure the homes were built with lathe and plaster, the outside used shingles or brick clay core, the molds according to what one would believe, so no there is no real mystery of magic spellings to counter that bell free.
As the decades waded quicksand or liquid faction, construction came into term. The trawl ran court to no longer clear the overflow and the actual building material was torn down for a more measurable or formidable substance that would withstand the real standard of a earth shaker, the quake in and of itself. In the seconds to counts on moments with jaws, it is the eye dropping shock of the whence between your needs that delivers the rubber legs a sort of shiver to the spinal fluids reality of the sphinx.
Like letters in the film that scribe the Tau of Zen on your lives in the Living on top the tube of when. Squeeze the pleasure spin the bottle, trip the journal speak a glenn, write a pen men ship cause know the filters, dust the jacket, for the sweaters are the wool of the sheered clones that no communication has brought empty sacks and skulls with no panes.
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