by Sharon Fain
Soon the longest night of the year
will bear down on these trails
near my home, a darkness
that for the ancients was like a death.
At New Grange and Stone Henge
they lit torches, waited it out. Continue reading
by Sharon Fain
Soon the longest night of the year
will bear down on these trails
near my home, a darkness
that for the ancients was like a death.
At New Grange and Stone Henge
they lit torches, waited it out. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry