©2012 Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited
Like beams rising forth from sixteenth notes on a staff,
so too, do the new evergreens climb into cool airs.
Soft snow kisses airs which compliment our coats.
Hushed helpful airs heave snow off pioneering branches.
The subdued sound of a horn, of French descent ...
glides in, gallant in fashion.
I share with you a lesser known location:
a picnic table of unique architecture.
The table has an indentation in its stone center.
There go the woods of yesteryear for a fire.
There are trees which surround our royal table.
Chilly air bows to the great evergreen sentinels.
Yams, a deep bright orange burst open upon a the slightest budge.
Cinnamon spice tea is our chosen drink for dining this evening.
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