My Walker Hound curled asleep at the stone hearth. Gathering heat from
the snapping oak flame, casting a dance of light across the pine wall.
I've sunk deep in the leather with my fleece covered feet propped up out
from the wool house coat.
A soft glow of the red and green display mix with the meter light
shedding through the mist of smoke as it twirls out from the bowl of
Captain Black. Colors casting a hint on the brass key as I set down the
half empty glass of Cutty Sark.
Above the tapping of winter at the pane there's a slow clean tone of
relaxing hand keying gracing it's way through the space to be lost up on
the dark of a tress. As I slowly reach for the key to return the call.
Yes it's finally here SKN on the Eve of 2000. I can spend it just the way
I want only by the grace of God and the solid confidence of a Ten-Tec.
Enjoy the moment.
73 Jeff, aa8ve
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