by Adeline Macdonald Clean steam iron the linen sheets, white and crisp and beautiful and without fault or fold White walls upon white walls with nothing to upset you or hurt you or make you cry or want to leave or want to think Do you love it? Is it…
by Amy Southard I know when Autumn arrives, Usually early September here. The corn in my garden is ready for harvest, The silks turning brown. The pumpkins are beginning To turn more orange than green. Leaves are turning yellow, orange and red, Falling to the ground and crunching, As playful…
by Jane Flint My uncle owned a parcel once. It was a beauty. Up there outside of Brookings. Most of it lay along a gentle slope facing southward. During runoff in the spring, every farm around would be wet or under water. But that piece would drain as soon as…