You are my American Dream, I found you there beneath the cherry blossoms... In thirty years, we sit beneath the cherry blossoms reading Tolkien or Chesterton aloud. A love poem set against Washington D.C.'s iconic spring beauty.
future dreams
Planting Seeds and Wondering: When Will I Have My Own Blank Slate?
Starting 144 seedlings from scratch, I know exactly what each will become. Watching my student Young Beauty and friends' children, I dream of my own blank slate—but first, Charming has to choose me.
The Hollow Tree in My Backyard and the Woman Who Climbed on Top
A storm felled the ancient tree behind my house, revealing it was hollow inside. As I climbed its trunk, I wondered: How many of us stand tall while rotting at the base? At least I can still count my rings.
Writer's Growth 