Snowing and blowing outside – seems like spring will never get here.
My cup of tea is hot, the house quiet but for the rumbling furnace and ticking clock. Nothing between me and the writing I want to do but my fears.
Funny how I don’t particularly like poetry. Maybe because I’m more interested in story.
This morning I went ahead and ordered Serge Fiori’s new CD from Amazon, defeated finally by the lack of service from a local music … Read the rest