A Letter to the NRA

The school bus sped away that day as Grace blew kisses to her mom. Excitement, swirling, had its sway and with the bluest eyes, she sung. She’s gone now, to another realm where neither blood nor fear reside; where purple crayons overwhelm; where innocence will not be tried. We may know love when, through her…

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The Gift

(photo by J.Casey) My snowy visitors have brought to me a bright and beautiful December day I offer them my Chinaberry tree. I perch and stare before they’re on their way. They pause and groom each other for awhile; soft talk they share with cooing , cheek to cheek. They stare at me and, sure…

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