“With a slight toss of her head, she loops the moon into a scarf and sluices into the bitter night…”
I wrote this awhile back in my film noir heroine fantasy period.
Today, with a shiver down my to my backbone, I looped a woolen scarf inside my down parka, covered my head with the hood and rumbled into the bitter wind at the farmers’ market.
So much for sensual drama.
Mercury goes direct
I stir the soup
in clockwise circles