Snowspiration

When the muse strikes, I'm compelled to write poetry; try as I might, I cannot ignore it when it does, nor conjure it automagically.  So, when the iron is hot?  I strike.  When unexpected snow began accumulating, so did a niggling insistence to...

Song of the South

I love being from the South.  I feel sorry for people who, by virtue of birth, don't share this clear geographical advantage.  I feel sorrier for the people who feel sorry for me for thinking it's something special to have been born in the...

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