Tag Archives: Bruce Cummings

She loves the wind. There on the edge of the known world, at ninety, In her tall house, any wildness in the elements Is as welcome as an old friend. When the surgically patched elms and sycamores Crack off their heavy limbs in the freak snow storm Of October, she rejoices; the massy hail ThatContinue reading “day 7: for discomfort”