Like an ancient tree, a story has an inevitable internal logic that the writer must find and follow.
Category: Wind and water, rock and tree
This hush
Late-winter evening, a light snow, ...
August Rain
The year has turned
to the round month,
the orange one,
month of steam and droning bees,
time when we first remember
the end is tumbling near. ...
but on the trees
Snow falls heavy, thick, but on the trees pink buds, tiny, wait ~~~