A woman’s workday is never done From first light to close of day, one continuous sweeping blur Spinnin’ ‘round the
The pathway through the marsh was built to endure – straight, solid, and indestructible. Even the marsh’s ravenous denizens were
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
The last item to go onto the pile was the mop she used to clean the kitchen floor. With more
The invitation was penned in elegant calligraphy on fine, handmade cotton rag paper, and sealed with a dark crimson, wax
She leaned against the weathered windowsill, her hands cupped around her eyes to shield them from the sun. Peering into