Southern summer nights–a hint of honeysuckle on an errant breeze, the cicadas’ grating song. From a tangle of tree limbs, an owl asks his eternal question. Past and present blur into one. This could be a hundred years ago, or it could be now. The evenings are the same. People move through, one era closes […]
Sep 20, 2018
That First Good, Hot Cup of Coffee
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The days are definitely much shorter than they were in August. It is still dark out, although it’s after six a.m. My first cup of coffee sits on the desk, and I take an occasional sip as I write. It’s a good way to start the day. Yesterday, I noticed a mysterious puddle under my […]
