What the sellers left behind: three handmade wooden birdhouses, a flat, painted stone, the grime of an upended bucket, wild bushes, a leering gnome and a wind chime. What winter left behind: the crisp-crunch of tawny leaves and damp of thawing soil in spaces within sunlight’s reach, under shade’s spring recoil.
Navigating my writing adventures through teaching, motherhood, and cancer survivorship.
Words and Coffee Writing 