Who knew during taper hours you read Adam Bede and The Copperhead. The photo hides maimed fingers, bones bowed by rickets. They fashioned ladies' hightops and paid their mothers' debts. Hurled out of darkness riding earth's carrousel, with slant grasses, marigold instinct enamors sunward. Before a day's finale, in unison, peoplereturn from work and after untold pressure, recoup one by one, recline, rest a while, lay with.
Prodigious thinkers dormant in midnight's velvet, surrender to a pillow's mercy.
Sleepers hope their muscles unknot limber as taffy.