Spring Recess Reverie
The essays are graded and packed away. Enjoying my newfound freedom, I sit outside. My right arm, shoulder, and pectoral burn in the sun. A Harley sounds. The sugar maple, where I hung Frankie’s tire swing years before, stands indifferent to the heat or passing winds. Only the smallest buds on its uppermost branches reveal any sign of life. Blooming forsythias bend in a breeze too low to stir the windchime. A bumblebee buzzes past.
passing with every breath
more by FRANK J. TASSONEHire An Editor