The grass is so dry now it’s mostly brown, a brown you would call golden if you looked at it right. And what’s to stop us from calling it gold? This stretch of life resigned to a form of living… Read More ›
it’s hard to fathom all the words in the English language that must end with the letter m, or why anyone would think to put that in a poem. Thanks everyone for playing along on my 30-day posting streak!