My dreams stretch along a certain expanse of highway where space hangs in loops of golden unison where the ghost towns mix with sunflower fields…
Tag: rural
The line between gray winter and bright-eyed spring dims today adrift in the chill of feathery fair-weather clouds and the short, shrill songs of rain-soaked…
In case you need to read the previous: https://broussardlana.wordpress.com/2017/06/05/leaving-witt-2/ “So long, Eliza, see you tomorrow at school.” At school the next day, Joey stuffed…
I wake late in the nucleus of summer purple coneflowers with coppery spikes gleaming swaying in a solstice dance I have climbed through the brambles…
We are lost in this land down from Farm to Market Road golden sinking slowness behind us approaching Saturday night at the cafe. Catfish, ice…
Way back before the pretty girls fled leaving that bland country like a silk blouse ripping in the wind those scattered threads long thrashed by…
One day soon, when the weather decides to cooperate, I am heading out to the country to say hello to some of the cutest little…