Those Winter Sundays
Sundays too my father got up early and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold, then with cracked hands that ached from labor in the weekday weather made banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.…
4 tygodnie temu
Night, Death, Mississippi
I A quavering cry. Screech-owl? Or one of them? The old man in his reek and gauntness laughs— One of them, I bet— and turns out the kitchen lamp, limping to the porch to listen in the windowless night.…
4 tygodnie temu