The Autumn Leaf

A russet leaf, already dry and crackling, clung to the oak tree, refusing to relinquish its grasp on the upper limb, for even leafs are reluctant to let go, to accept the passing seasons. The acorns had fallen weeks before to be stolen by the squirrels from the point of land beneath the oak tree…

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The Stops Along the Way

They were an elderly couple rocking in the green wicker chairs on the porch of Sunset Mountain Lodge. He wore a khaki wool sweater slightly frayed at the cuffs, patched with leather: the kind of sweater that, after many years, warms its owner from without and also within. She wore a knit woolen hat and…

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