John
This summer I walked behind John in the woods. I followed him as he followed the trail. “Flies are getting bad,” he’d grumble, reaching for the tobacco in his pocket. I quickened my step whenever John puffed on his pipe, …
This summer I walked behind John in the woods. I followed him as he followed the trail. “Flies are getting bad,” he’d grumble, reaching for the tobacco in his pocket. I quickened my step whenever John puffed on his pipe, …
I followed my mother down a winding forest path.
The trail head peaks through the trees that line the softball field down the street from my house. You wouldn’t know it was there if you weren’t looking for it.
Gnarled tree …