Slow Sunday Scenes in the Village: Mix
It is a Sunday afternoon by now, and sittin' out in the shade on the patio i see a gnome watching while sitting a swing attached to a branch in the orange tree. Big red dunce cap, white beard, heavy blue jacket, just enough breeze to gently push him forward, rock him back. I oughta get up and give him a nudge. Just a week or two ago the same breeze was pushing the scent of orange blossom through the kitchen window. There are still a few blooms attracting bees, but now, mostly, dried petals litter the ground. Little green ball bearing size fruits where the flowers once were. Gnome has been watching over that orange tree for years; i should know his name by now, but he ain't much for talking. " Ooh, stop With your feet on the air and your head on the ground Try this trick and spin it, yeah Your head will collapse, if there's nothing in it And you'll ask yourself Where is my mind? Where is my mind? Where is my mind?... " (Black) but why not have a lazy afternoo...
