Photo by Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash
The ear of the wheat
Bristles in the cold wind
And plays violin
About the Creator
Paul Aaron Domenick
I taught high school English for 18 years but never developed my own writing and style until three years ago. Since then I have been submitting my work to publications. In exchange with others, my words constantly surface but never arrive.
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Comments (2)
After the previous one with the Princess–Frankenstein, I want wheat ears to play the violin for me, my mother. I will take to the mountains and become a shepherd. I haven’t gone completely crazy yet. Pavlos, you set my house on fire. Oh—sorry, I meant my pen.
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