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Short story: <i>Ode To Spring</i>

In green grass, silkily damp with dew and bowed down with humility, Rose rambles, gnarly with thorns, tinged with imperfections.

They sky is the shade of a thousand poets, chorusing their admiration for the glory and the wonder. The world sparkles, like a recitation of well loved verse that swells the heart and bruises the senses.

And while the sun shines, and the birds sing, and the countryside bursts into a cacophany of clichés that tutor each soul in the spirit of badly written and heartfelt prose, I decide not to abuse or insult the glorious spirit of the countryside that my contemporaries and forbears have done before me. I will sit on the green grass and watch the blue sky and do it justice with my heart, not my inadequate words.

This is the result of a fifteen minute writing exercise. The only constrictions were the time limit and five randomly selected words from the dictionary. Today the words were: abuse, humility, ramble, tutor, and recite.

Image courtesy of doigstar1.

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