Midmorning Fortune

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Attracting chi of floorboards, and golden age tools used no more. Feeling winters bitter pets I theorized the acres present state. With salvaged infant woes, and as gutters dissolved overhead ice picks into mere traces of condensation, she moved out of the back lot. Interstate clay creamed the vehicles rims as I imitated a drag racer, groping the wheel tightly for the benefit of keeping a steady rhythm into the rising twilight hills. The southern distance was open, allowing my vehicle to steady off to the side of the trail. Exiting from the cockpit I conceived my cabin over yonder, subjected to the handsome glow of Monday dawn, as an individual sensation ran throughout my callused palms.





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