The last few leaves of summer are clinging stubbornly to the sycamore tree in front of our house. They may not survive today’s wind, and that’s OK with me. I’ve raked enough this season.
Autumn is a poignant time; a twilight season between hot and cold, dark and light, remembering and forgetting. But (as I’ve … Continue reading The Last of the Leaves by Jamie Kirkpatrick
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