a box of stuff that’ll go crazy when spring comes, but it’s pretty manageable until then
She asked me when the season of joy was supposed to end & I said I didn’t really think there was an exact date, so we left the tree up till June that year.
she sang like snowflakes on my tongue, bright & sharp with the forgotten promises of spring
My uncle Obert had only 3 fingers on his left hand. He lost the others during corn planting one spring. My fingers are buried out in these fields somewhere, he used to tell us & I check for them every summer to see if they’ve sprouted yet. I asked him once what he’d do if … [Read More]