Essays

Summer In Gilmanton

Bike tires on dirt roads The wind whipping past my ears Listening for frogs Jumping in the babbling brooks along the way To The Farm Red Barn, yellow house Tall grass in need of mowing Steps made out of granite, framed by Brown-eyed Susans Two old rocking chairs adorn the porch, strewn with fire wood… Continue reading Summer In Gilmanton

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