by lori | Feb 9, 2016 | Here and now, Love, Poetry
blades of green bend low and breathe in damp, the misted seaside glows, fog yellow gray among planked houses, sunlight slants across the field, racing tree shadows tumbling down and softly yield those dry spots are deer footprints strong and hesitant tenderly picking... by lori | Jun 10, 2015 | Acceptance, Essays, Story, Wayfinding
I turn 45 Sunday. Last month my body began celebrating by throwing me hot flashes in lieu of a party. They’re like a personal, internal fireworks show. So I’ll be ringing in this birthday standing hot, alone, and naked outside on the deck, staring up at the stars at 3...