weeping willow

The Weeping Willow

I grew up in a small town where people living closely took turns putting on musical displays. Not that there was a written agreement, or even spoken, it just grew into their customs. Sunday evenings were my mother’s turn when old and young folks would jive into her collection. One (more…)

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the indian rider

​The Indian Rider

Sometimes the rains come in April, filling the millions of crevices that the earth had opened, dying of thirst. Then thousands of seeds buried beneath the surface, burst to life, flooding the air with their sweet fragrances. Yet, always on the first day of May, as if nature had its (more…)

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