The elm remained in contention long after the oak felt the full weight of Sunday tulips coming down.

Astrid figured there were only three ways to Sunday to stop the upheaval of raindrops serenading the subliminal box springs that enclosed the fulsome tree horn. She dusted off her Damascus steel guitar and finished her fourth variation on her latest attempt at her graduation piece called “That Pea-Green Day” in a flat Phrygian. How a flat Phrygian got into her pajamas, she’ll never know. Her dinky ankles could barely keep up with the pedals, but her sumptuous yearning would keep the works going long enough to matter this time.

In the privacy of her private chamber, the maiden music completed something in her soul, and Astrid stole a glance at her aunt’s favorite stole, no longer in vestment fashion, but a keen memento mori nonetheless. Her wistful confection nourished her endurance until her husky impetuosity would bring her first prize in the student division.

Astrid greeted the new day, and she remained in contention long after her chief rival felt the full weight of Sunday tulips coming down.