The Wrong Season
He planted the roses in the wrong season, deceived by the string of balmy days into thinking spring had come. He churned up the soil and mixed it with peat moss and bone meal. He laid down a two inch… Read more ›
He planted the roses in the wrong season, deceived by the string of balmy days into thinking spring had come. He churned up the soil and mixed it with peat moss and bone meal. He laid down a two inch… Read more ›
My heart had become a lonely house, abandoned at lands end, deaf to the complaints of the wind and the clamorous cries of the terns, its empty rooms echoing only the tumultuous roar of the surf at midnight When… Read more ›
we’re old vines you and I our best vintages a pretty memory but our fruit retains some sweetness yet the first frost hasn’t touched it it’s ready to be plucked and pressed into the second wine, la piquette, consumed in… Read more ›
Roberta, née Rawa in Iraq, weary of explaining to the salesgirls in cosmetics her reasons for wearing a hijab, decided to let her lustrous hair flow down and no longer cringed when her husband’s friends, emboldened by cocktails, gave her… Read more ›