#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

An old sinking into the earth stone wall elevates a landscape into a fine work of art. This morning the sun never shone in a silver sky and it was damp and my feet iced but the dead straw softened, the meadow is a cushion, so I bounced along, a happy dog in the dreamy landscape of being alone in a museum with no security cameras policing. Then I poked my fingers into all the empty nests in the naked bushes and sang about garish displays of GOLDen luxury beaming from once hidden places.