Rushing nothing on…

Aug 12, 2014 | Beautiful Prose, Things I wish I'd written

Daylight fires the ridges green, shifts the colors of the fog, touches the brick streets of Rock Camp with a reddish tone. The streetlights flicker out, and the traffic signal at the far end of Front Street’s yoke snaps on; stopping nothing, warning nothing, rushing nothing on.

…from The Honored Dead, compiled in The Stories of Breece D’J Pancake, by the eponymous Appalachian author who I’m beginning to think may be the only writer ever from my home worth reading, and perhaps, more worth reading than ninety-nine percent of all the writers you’ve ever read.