wings spread against glass.
outside sunrise stretches on distant
horizon of the beginning hours.
I hear Spring alive
in the trees and air
moving back and forth… 57 more words
I never quite believed I would ever be part of something as real as a literary journal. I have to admit: it’s a daunting process. As an editor, there’s a pressure on you to find every little mistake you can, tighten the prose up as much as possible, yet still keep the author’s voice intact. 150 more words