Boustrophedon - Friday Flash

Turn.Turn.Turn. The sun in the sky did it as day turned into night turned into day. The plants in
,fields the ploughed they as it did tractors farmers' The .light the chased they as it did earth the
the plume of smoke rising from their vertical exhausts swatted away on the air when the heavy
The .tails their with flies away batting oxen forerunner their echoing ,hump a over went tyres
street panhandlers did it periodically, emptying their Styrofoam cups of donated change, toting
taking before ,they were begrimed so gloved be not may or may that palms their in up it
themselves off to the liquor store. Thus did the day turn lazily. The mad woman who was
turning ,sported still she shoes the of because ballerina professional a been have to rumoured
on the same spot for hours on end, wearing a hole in the carpet, only it could never be deemed
one first reeled it although for ,trend the bucked top spinning child's the Only .pirouette a be to
way then another as it collided with the skirting board or a leg of the table, it was spinning
top the on idly finger his had writer The .down wound finally too it until ,spindle own its around
of his pen, letting it propel the nib where it would, as his other free hand tugged the notepad
,today flowing weren't just ideas The .paper lined the of surface the to on ink the jogged and
as he gazed out the window.