Posts
staring at the wall can be fun
Patrick writes:
The frogs began before dark, scattered chirps rising from the reeds in small clusters, two calls, three calls, at a time. Clouds drifted through a fading blue-grey sky. The damp air carried a soft oscillating hum, like the evening itself breathing. The marsh vibrated with tiny hidden voices from the grass and black water.
No comments:
Post a Comment