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PAUL CHRISTENSEN
WHERE SUMMER ENDS
My village lies there in all its stony composure under the first thunderstorm of fall. It meant cold weather was coming, creeping in like...
MESSAGES FROM THE INVISIBLE
It's chilly now. A big rain fell morosely out of the wrinkles of darkness. The streets sobbed with relief, and the footsteps so often...
A VELVET GLOOM BEFORE IT RAINS
The sky is overcast this mid-day. It reminds me of the times when my father came into my bedroom and tossed the covers off, saying...
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