Graceless

There’s a tree outside the place where I live, where I sometimes call home, but then wonder if I am misusing the word.

But what can I say, I like the tree. It looks nice. It’s not brown of green like those trees I drew with crayola crayons of magic markets when I was younger, but it is the color trees actually are. Or, so I think.

I think.

I will spend some time looking at this tree.

So, not much, what’s up with you?