Wednesday, March 21, 2012

It's that time of the year again when the mahogany blooms.  The air is scented but has not yet become heavy with the scent.  When all is quiet, one hears the gentle plop, plop of the flowers falling, like a light drizzle.  Soon the ground will be a scented carpet of little green stars that crunch underfoot, slowly turning yellow and then brown.

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