A new dawn rises over the horizon
Blotted out by box towers.
Those trapped inside silently cry for freedom
That we refuse them.
A new dawn rises over the horizon
Blotted out by box towers.
Those trapped inside silently cry for freedom
That we refuse them.
Teaser segment of my collection of short stores.
When I was young, these hills didn’t look how they do now: round, soft, tie-dye greens and yellows splattered with wild flowers, the smooth scissor cut of a stream in the shallow valley. They were bare, jagged, and dry.