Wednesday, November 2, 2016

Jen Webb #1

When spring broke after alltoolong, the trees burst into pleasure, the elderly wrapping themselves in the rugs old women had crafted during winter, the saplings reaching for perfume and silk. All the trees burst into partying, and the birds provided the score, and we too danced half the night, you with your hands godknowswhere but I wasn't one to complain, being ready always to put my own hands in unseemly places. When the morning arrived you went back to your wife, and me to mine, and if we agreed never to say no to nothing, we agreed too to let Spring be spring and dance be dance and tomorrow take care of the day.


  1. Beautiful, Jen, and beautiful writing.

  2. I like this very much. It begins with pure, natural pleasure and ends with guilty pleasures.


Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.