I glimpse the land's border. Yesterday, it used to be an islet covered by waves. Today, even closer, it thrills me, the lighthouse's light thrills me! Today, even closer, I frequent the rocky edge. I have

Cradled in this afternoon’s glow, the estuary, poured in molten ore, a shimmering bath, glowing like precious gemstone. Heat drips from the horizon, where we bask, steeped in warm honey. Sunlight drapes

So I wrote this rant last night on FB, and I thought I would share it here, along with a question, which I will pose after the rant: What if we stopped letting others define us by arbitrary things? I was

The Writing Closet at the Abel and Mary Nicholson House The 295-year-old Abel and Mary Nicholson House in rural Salem County, New Jersey couldn’t be more inconveniently located, but it’s uniquely special