Sleep

The following submission is by Writers in the Grove member Carolyn Bradley for the prompt Sleeping and Dreaming.

With fury the snow came down, slanted sideways like angry eyebrows, shattering its color over icy ground. It covered fence posts and car tops. It dusted fir boughs and bare limbs. It buried children’s tricycles and sandboxes until they were indistinct mounds. It filled empty flower pots and wheelbarrows to overflowing.  Then, with diminished force, it fell straight down, smoothing rough pathways and alleys with a soft frosting of vanilla. The garden tucked the white blanket up around its neck. It still slumbered. Seeds lay dormant. Worms and bugs slept. Bulbs waited. The ground, seemingly lifeless, was perched on the brink of awakening, its alarm clock a warming of the earth and bright morning sunlight. At the signal, the garden would shake off its white blanket and stretch its limbs toward the blue sky. Until then, it slept, breathing in and out and dreaming of soft soil, new grass and the rising of spring.

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