Their little hands reaching out into the sunlight and clear Clutching scrunches of silver and white, like crumpled tenners, scores – Unfolding the mottos of fortune cookies, notes of remembrance, promises Made one to another, they to us, winter to summer. The first gesture of the year is an embrace changing Studded green to garlandsContinue reading “100-Word Fiction: ‘A Dowry’”
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MW Bewick 