The spruce stood tall, a shadowed cone against the cold and dawning morn, a giant sentinel overlooking the crossroads along my route to work. Thebus rocked like a ship in rough seas as it rattledintothe intersection, fatigued metal complaining, whirring heater blastingair like a blow-dryer, but as we passed the ancient spruce, above the din, […]
Published on March 03, 2015 08:08