Under the broad branches of an ancient maple tree in the garden of the NYC, there stirs a slight form wrapped in a frayed blanket. Her nap in the morning sun peppered with dreams, and her blanket peppered with droppings from the crow that sat on her shoulder.
She dreamily pulls the blanket up a little tighter around her shoulders, sips a cooling au lait, and begins to sing to herself "California here I come...."
~Mojo

WONDERFUL FOLKS! Thanks to all for the creation.~Elle