Gertie weathered the donkeys’ endless braying — sharp and grating across the pasture: A HORSE’S PLOW WE WON’T ALLOW Their voices cracked hollow, like imaginary whips against which they rebelled. “Ignorant jackasses,” Gertie muttered. “The field’s been fallow for weeks.”… Continue Reading
I am sitting here watching the news, numbed by the endless repetition of details, each time with just a little more added to the picture. The man standing there with a phone in his right hand and a raised arm… Continue Reading
Time to get going! My mother was calling from the kitchen. I turned over in bed and watched her stride into my room in her brisk way and pull the curtains open. The morning sun poured in. We have places… Continue Reading