A blanketed hush lays across the fields now. The land seems to be saying, “shhh, no more talking now.” Feathers swell and fur thickens. Hibernating frogs rest on the bottom of creek beds. Misty breath emerges from the stolen dens of...
The wind has been rattling her bony fingers all day, scraping them against window panes, rustling them through dry branches, using them to boldly clang the metal chime outside my front door. These are not the green winds of early fall who are just...
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