“It sang to me” she told me to write.
More like the constant echo of “it’s a fox! it’s a fox!”
Blueberry pie, baking spices, cool red cherries.
Like I’m foraging in the wilderness and a fox points me in the direction of a shrouded bush of berries it knows to be cranberry like. Linear in its complexity for me, a few notes not worth expounding on, but drinkable to the utmost. Bursting with fruit flavor. The red starburst of wine.
Mistletoe is starting to peek its head out just like our two foxes.
“It sang to me” she told me to write.
More like the constant echo of “it’s a fox! it’s a fox!”
Blueberry pie, baking spices, cool red cherries.
Like I’m foraging in the wilderness and a fox points me in the direction of a shrouded bush of berries it knows to be cranberry like. Linear in its complexity for me, a few notes not worth expounding on, but drinkable to the utmost. Bursting with fruit flavor. The red starburst of wine.
Mistletoe is starting to peek its head out just like our two foxes.
Nov 17th, 2020
Douro, Portugal
