We Are Not Old as Seasons Change…

(Dedicated to my brother Bill) I stand in August and smell October coming.The dry summer crumbles fallen leaves while green.The eyes of children widen as the siren call of hallowed hall begins.And I the child still feel the stomach knot of that unknown. The boasting heat of Summer declares itself out loud,yet we know itContinue reading “We Are Not Old as Seasons Change…”