Tell me a story
You say, and I begin again.
The beginning, always my favorite part
sweet on my tongue, fleeting
But I am ever hopeful… 131 more words
Yesterday morning at seven-thirty, I went for a walk. The sun was streaming down Evanswood, turning the street into a golden river of light. Across that river, in the neighbor’s front yard, a trio of deer placidly munched hostas, unbothered by the dog walkers and the pack of school children milling at the bus stop at the corner. 455 more words