Obviously, my sister did not see this poem before she died but I think she would have liked it.
My sister called them the weather terrorists
She’d rail at how
They’d whip us into a frenzy
Last night the wind shifted.
Yesterday, the lazy air from the Gulf
Drifted around my neighborhood
Lounged with damp fingers on the flagstones.
A sweaty dame on a chaise lounge
too bored to get up and leave.
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A Tree grows in Sedona
Because we work by ourselves, writers and illustrators often feel alone. We aren’t but sometimes we need to be reminded of all the great resources around us. Here are a few that I rely on for classes, news and general good thinking: