Green (Prose)

Green emeralds; sun shafts illuminating the mayflies glistening like fairies up ahead. So many greens. Layered atop each other like a palate; not for discerning preference but to imbibe as a completed masterpiece. Not to be tailored but enjoyed. A chef’s mark of confidence. This was the walk from camp to our sunset spot in California’s San Bernardino mountains.


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