The sun never gets too hot on the west side; instead of vineyards we had raspberry fields; acre after acre of tangled vines. In other towns, the trucks smell of black exhaust but here, the trucks trail the scent of ripe raspberries as they roar…
24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
The sun never gets too hot on the west side; instead of vineyards we had raspberry fields; acre after acre of tangled vines. In other towns, the trucks smell of black exhaust but here, the trucks trail the scent of ripe raspberries as they roar…