“Mommy, why are the trees moving?” My daughter stood, rooted in place, staring out the window in to the dusk. The sun was setting behind the treeline; I didn't have …
Good-byes
Pale liquid gold paints the evening sky, the winter sun setting for another day. The clear, teal-tinged blue of the sky behind it reminds me of the color my tears …
Clara Blackstone, Author 