A woman’s workday is never done From first light to close of day, one continuous sweeping blur Spinnin’ ‘round the
Winter winds swept down the mountain, whipping through bare tree limbs and worming through narrow gaps in the barn walls.
There is no way for me to know how many past lives I had to satisfy to come to this
Found, one toddler’s shoe Lost one hot summer day ‘Twixt morning and Someday Avenue Little ones should be free, tis
She leaned against the weathered windowsill, her hands cupped around her eyes to shield them from the sun. Peering into