On the side of a hill in the deep forest green, tracing a sparrow on snow-crested ground, blankets and bedclothes the child of the mountain sleeps unaware of the clarion call. On the side of a hill, a sprinkling of leaves washes the grave with silvery tears, a soldier cleans and polishes a gun. War bellows, blazing in scarlet battalions, generals order their soldiers to kill and to fight for a cause they've long ago forgotten
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Mom's Day Spent…
… at my Mom's place. Took her to an independent documentary (supporting friends) and then out to dinner. So away from the internets all day.
Regular programming to resume tomorrow. As long as I'm not buried under at work.