writing

The sun was setting over the San Francico Bay behind me but the orange glowing reflections of the sun on houses across the hay and mountains mirrored the sun going to sleep. I was sitting beneath the plumb tree gazing at the view from my backyard as some quails walked purposely by in single file on their way to the front side of the house where there were fallen apples on the ground and pears and ample blackberry bushes. Seagulls overhead were fluttring by in arrows high in the clouds in a long line of arrows that spanned into the distance that reminded me of watching them each autumn with my friends in the great field down the street. The wind picked up and a few plumbs from teh plumb tree dropped down to the ground beneath my feet. I spotted two deer apporoaching cautiously and I returend to the house as the deer cautiously but causally approached the plumb tree's harvest waiting for them at it's base in the thick grass. I could hear coyotes howling across the canyon and ...