First I smell the sweetly rotting apples
Trampled in the orchard, two acres
North, as the crow flies.
Then the head lights bounce off the fog
A whistling belt with the crunch of gravel.
Off goes Husband for another day
Before any of us has stirred.
My heart’s song heads south.
When he gets home tonight it will be like a vacation.
using the Write Alm prompt this morning
Every Heart Has a Song
Filling up the day till I can sit around on the sofa with Husband tonight.