#168 Dogwood

The clear expanse of country was what made her shudder. After years spent pent between buildings that obfuscated the sun better than an Alaskan winter, she could not believe in a six o'clock sunrise even when, even as, she beheld it.

Who could say what it meant, this rising of the sun? Maybe she would like the country. Maybe she might meet a man who knew what it was like to view the sunrise through the bough of a lonely dogwood tree. She might like that, though in this place, she had more hope for the dogwood than the man.

—2009-09-04 11:53:18