Write four lines of prose about: the finale.
Bringing the first Ambrosia apples of the year to tomorrow morning's market, along with lots of carrots, heirloom tomatoes, and a collection of other produce.
Unfortunately the forecast is still calling for rain, but we shall see how right they are this time around.
The percussionist sat at the back of the orchestra, perfectly quiet and very, very still. He listened as the other players blew and strummed and fingered their instruments, the noise level rising and falling around him in waves.
All the while his eyes never strayed from his conductor as he waited for his big moment, the grand finale of the night's performance.
He just hoped that, unlike during practice earlier that day in the field behind the auditorium, his lighter would ignite on the first try.