Between the Red Road and the Sky
It is a dull morning, lionlike for the beginning of March, with a biting north wind sharpening the edges of muddy snowdrifts. I step through the gritty crystals...
It is a dull morning, lionlike for the beginning of March, with a biting north wind sharpening the edges of muddy snowdrifts. I step through the gritty crystals...
I have just a few moments on this busy Saturday before Advent to share two things: a sequence and a secret. The first is a sequence of Advent poetry I com...
I am huddled under heather-purple wool, writing about the darkness of fall and the sadness of all these hurricane-stripped trees, when little Ivy (always green)...