Softly. On tiptoe I creep. Across his room; Each step takes an eternity. His bedside lamp glows a pale yellow illuminating the...

It is too pleasing. I tried to work Thanksgiving at the soup kitchen though I waited too long and they didn’t need me. I whittled...

In a Sunday morning meadow, the dewed grass bows to pray. The sun is in its pulpit to chase the clouds away. Swallows swoop like...