where the writers are
End of Summer

The summer ended. Fall is upon us and in the interim--  I'll write here. Clothes are put away and serendipity plants new ideas for sow, hen and fawn. Duende is math in the wind, and as such, blows leaves, notes and manuscripts into the gust. Shorts become whale bone and the palette of time saunters into cordials Fall extravaganzas and football. Summer ended. Long sleeves wind breakers and new boots bought from catalogs and added from an abacus...Fall is here.