Days,you just want that grass-between-toes,sorta feelin’,ain’t nothin’ gonna get you,you got wooden bones, ‘n bark thick-thick-thick,–wild-fires burn,–but they just makin’ room for you to spread. Days,you just walkin’ among the Sequoias,one-of-a-kindone-of-many. Prompt from mslabyrinth: “Would you write something descriptive, something about a character in a natural setting, the setting mirroring (or contrasting) the character’s thoughts …
