I have the start of a short story that I am calling "Sunday Ceasars" started and will be spending most of the next week working on a first full draft which I will share here for feedback.
In the meantime, I pulled the following short poem out of one of my notebooks the other day, written on a day hike to the Lake Agnes Tea House.
half way to the tea house she turns the trail
sorts her skeleton into a more stable
relationship and laughs the memory
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- I’ll share work-in-progress writings with you, and get your input on ideas I’m mulling over.