what fun what fun what a fun time of year mossy boulder in the sun icicle dripping baby cows frolicking about green meadows as high snows collapse into the whitewater that flows to yellow…

AFTER THE STORM After the storm they venture out, she and the big black dog who breaks trail with broad chest cresting through virgin white. He pauses with lolling tongue and steaming breath…

Whose Mouth Do I Speak With? I can remember my father bringing home spruce gum. He worked in the woods and filled his pockets with golden chunks of pitch. For his children he provided this…