Ridgeline2 days ago7Bark at My FingertipsThe larch bark under my fingertips is still cool. The warmth before the sun dries the yellow needles. Silver grass brushes past in the wind once.
I was watching the silver grass touched by the wind brush against my wrist. I moved over to sit on a sun-warmed rock beside it. It's still warm.
When I scraped the oak bark, dried and cracked in the autumn sun, the still-moist inner layer showed underneath.