This week was rosy.
Like cranberry ice.
Like echos of turkey with cranberry sauce.
Like leftover shimmers of my golden birthday.
Like birthday candles.
It was rosy.
Like cyclamen blooms
Like my daughter's cheeks as she practices her ballet.
Like her attitude, originality and spirit shining through her typical tutu and girl boa.
Like a splash of fizz.
Like wild cherry.
The Prairie Hen in NE