Jeff Rushton

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Friday, September 5, 2008

Speak...Please Comments

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The wind through the sun dried leaves on the eve of summer’s last humid plea
The whistle from a child's puckered lips, puffed checks, not a note extending
That strong breeze at mountain and hill peak, the feeling of lift to eternity
The soft summers eve breeze, relaxing relief after a day of laborious deeds
...
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Jeff Rushton

summer winter Lips leaves

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Jeff Rushton

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12/6/2025 1:02:06 AM # 1.0.0