The Everlasting Father, I besought for a newish grove of honeysuckle to perfect an after supper pudding, but ole Sparky, bewitched by the scent of some critter twixt me and the nearby stream, ran off behind the wall of elms. The trees, some tall and regal, some scrubby and full of stickers, and some older than Kingdom come robed in ferns and trillium galore, crowded the pathway in greenish texture and welcomed my humble intrusion. Unbeknownst to me, my beloved pooch followed the trail, nose to the ground, of some wild thing toward the bubbling brook down the hill. I could hear the stream’s soft song through the trees as I approached. There he stood, behind a fallen log covered in thick moss, with mud on the tip on his nose in the middle of the sweet honeysuckle grove.
VOICE WEEK – #4 – Thanks BEKINDREWRITE
DAY 1 Wandering Along
Day 2 Deep in the Forest
Day 3 Our Canopy of Leaves