Pretty folk, painted from their generation.
Prancing--dancing, shouting on a soapbox, "Thou shalt not.."
With hands on high scorched by the sun.
Growing smaller each year, each century, each millennium. 
A faint whisper aquiver a rushing wind.
As the slain stain the years past and the years to come.

Summer Reading List

I bid adieu to all electronic forms of entertainment, --although I will make exceptions regarding e-mail, blog, and twitter updates-- for the summer, in hopes of tackling my rather bold list of books. Also, in hopes of curbing my addiction of buying books online in bulk but rarely finding the time to read them!