Messenger from a Past Love
The morning had arrived without permission, as mornings tend to do when one is not particularly eager to meet them. Beth had lain awake since four, watching the ceiling's...
Wings of Light
I did not mean to paint a theology. I meant to express in images something I could not name.
Most of us carry it — that particular longing that has nothing to do with anything that h...
A Fisherman's Tale
The village existed in that peculiar geography where land surrendered to sea without ceremony, where houses huddled against the wind like penitents. Thomas Carrick had lived there...