Taking thoughts captive
Favorite smells: mown hay, turned earth, summer rain, line-dried laundry
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Some Published Work
Vespers When you and I were in our prime, we sat on the cool concrete step with bare feet in dark grass as dusk deepened. Boys who had leaped to snare random spurts of pale light— squished into glowing rings on fingers— quieted in beds. Above our heads, the Milky Way materialized in a pointillistic arc of bright blessing; while the whippoorwill sang vespers. © Glenda Mathes
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posted by Glenda | 5:37 AM
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