Monthly Archives: August 2011

An old barn, gray streaks showing, backdrops an orange road sign: END CONSTRUCTION.

To have and to hold: Only as long as they both shall give. No longer.

Friendship: a surprise peanut butter milkshake that arrives mid-workload.

Holy Spirit, speak– my morning shower’s sweet sting. I am naked here.

Too self-conscious to conflate, the critic sits back while the rest Romance.

The mist this morning lay as though it lacked the will to rise. Sun be damned.

His olive-oil voice underwhelmed, but his surfeit of soul kept them rapt.