Three Word Muse: peaches, earplugs, notebook

Sitting under that old, Southern peach tree, the fruit so ripe the sweetness was dripping down onto my head, my hair, my shoulders, my face, I started to dream. Sticky sweet and wrapped in that humid blanket called summer, the dreams just come. Awake or asleep, on days like these, they flow over you, dancingContinue reading “Three Word Muse: peaches, earplugs, notebook”