Holy Apostles Soup Kitchen


In Prose, Uncategorized on August 4, 2014 at 10:00 am

apples[1]At the grocery, the colorful apples wink at me, smile at me and send their cacophony of perfumed scents directly and breezily sailing toward me, transporting like cologne on the breeze like air-conditioning in the closed space.

Apples, red, green and yellow, tinged with hues of pink and slightly freckled — Asia, Washington, Granny Smiths, succulent in color and ready to devour.

-Annette Coxall


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