by Carol Casey The August sun has almost spun the straw to gold in the large stack behind the barn. We take turns sliding down its side, whooping in the earthy smell, the scratchy stalks tickling. Not sure why I go down backward, push off so hard. I land with a thump on almost…
by LuCretia Crump My oh My I cannot deny Just how much I love me Some sweet potato pie Not once Not twice But throughout the entire year Sweet potato pie brings me good cheer It’s so delicious to every bite When everyone is asleep I awake to steal more…
