dogtrax

Outside, a man on the one-wheel gyro plays his guitar, the amplifier on his back cranked up to something close to heaven as he cruises city streets

Inside, a man hunches over the Grand, communing quietly with chords, his fingers gracing the keys, as the bass and drums follow his musical lead

for #OpenWrite

Windows, wide open; the Spring morning has spoken - this coolness won't last

for Algot

American Ash, I know this can't last, but you're such a burst of white flower in bloom, like the door's been opened and these bees have wandered into the room

for #OpenWrite

Driving through Peru, there's not much there to see or to do, just rivers and forests —more than a few dirt roads, too — but if you travel through, be sure to shout yoo-hoo to the 800 plus hardy folk living in these beautiful, isolated Western Massachusetts woods, no doubt happy to be off the grid in such a mixed up world, too

for #OpenWrite

Percussive mallets ring out against the dark night; thunder among stars

The nest of chipmunks starts at the hole in the ground, then tunnels way down

Hidden beneath dirt, the roots are a city in communication

Each morning, as my brain kicks into gear, I wait for the Daily Create to appear I laugh in surprise at what awaits my eyes and then I make it — another day in the year

for #ds106

Banjos and guitars - the porch pickers count it off, descend into song

And then there was green: Trees, lawns and the in-between where small flowers bloom

for Algot