The morning the water swallowed my beach is the morning the world finally looked. Four nights later, the forecast promised nothing and the sky burned anyway.
writers growth
Glimpses of Heaven
I have a garden. I've had one for almost two years, only there's sea oats instead of roses. It is a pier on the York River at first light.
Beautiful Chaos in Motion
A stranger watched me shoot at Denbigh and called it beautiful chaos in motion. Four days later the sun disappeared, and I found out what I'd been chasing.
The First of September
A friend handed me a folded page in the dark this morning. I couldn't read it yet. I've been dreading this date for weeks, and someone wrote over it.
