His voice a rhythm like rain, words rolling over themselves... “You are distinguished from the leaves by the shape of your eyes.They are whiter in color and rounder. Except on nights like this when th...
Everything was gone, the garden of wind and light, the Chrysalis, the Mother and her sister-crones, the rowan tree, everything. I was in a grove–no, it was a triad of trees: apple, oak, hazel. And at...
