“I want my son,” I whisper to the old climbing rose draping herself on the… Read the postThe Child Window
“We shall have to trudge through the snow.” my fellow marcher said. Looking down at… Read the postA Fifty Four Step March
Pouring ice around the hot pot of soup to chill it, some pieces escaped and… Read the postWhen The Ice Hit The Floor
The Tassel Spent. Like an old ragged dish cloth bleached and dried until the edges… Read the postThe Tassel
“What I want is to leap out of this personality And then sit apart from… Read the post“I Have Lived Too Long Where I Can Be Reached.”
“Don’t cry,” often accompanied by the immediate stuffing of a tissue in our hand to… Read the post“Don’t Cry”
Weaving my arm through the shoulder strap of my camera bag, I hugged it close,… Read the postWaiting for Wild Horses
I did not hear the sudden massive crack as much as I felt its vibrations… Read the postCutting Down the Family Tree
