Knowing she was sad, eleven crows

Knowing she was sad, eleven crows arrived with gifts:  delicate feathers chips of quartz and granite, short lengths of red and yellow yarn, crumpled bits of paper all colorful, some shiny with beef tallow others sticky and vanilla-scented.   How did they know? she wondered as they littered her winter green lawn with their offerings, creating a mosaic as vibrant as a Van Gogh night … Continue reading Knowing she was sad, eleven crows

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They are Coming

At dusk, when the day turns orange, then pink, then purple, spanning the color spectrum in the time it takes to walk home from the park, the ghosts come out.  You may see them for only ten or fifteen minutes, in that bright, liminal space before the night turns black and stars wink on like … Continue reading They are Coming