John's Mind Dusk falls softly in violet hues. Newborn dew sparkles on the cool grass as the sun shines its last before slipping into bed. The wind awakens whispering through the ancient trees, standing tall and dignified.
Leaves slip softly to the rugged path.
The moon illuminates the worn strip of earth darting in and out of the forest. And there, leaning against a short stubby tree, breathing in the balsam air is John. He smiles and runs his hand through his curly brown hair self-consciously. Hmmm, I feel I should tell you something about myself. I have the pleasure of meeting with homeowners to talk over and sometimes draw out designs.