By Susan Van Pelt Petry After the Picnic The sandwich bones left, the falling tide sucked through the gut, the wind snapped southeast, deep Atlantic blew in and the fog arrived. All lilt and laughter turned trembling, wet, dropped below deck, a halyard slacked, the genoa flapped, and a loon cried. Sounds from the shore … Continue reading After the Picnic and The Paisley Corduroy
Academy of the Heart And Mind 