Frank Taught Me That – Charley Oweson

 Frank Taught Me That

The sky is full of grey rain clouds. They glide sluggishly. Each separate puff on each cloud is enhanced, the grey resembling the shading of an artist's pencil.

The wind is cold, sharp. The bushes sway. Each leaf jostles the next. Many colours of green—many textures: crisp, waxen, velvety.

The grass needs cutting. It leans over in places, is non-existent in others. Each blade is a different length, width. I can recall the taste of a grass root from my childhood. Sweet. I...