by E. L. Miller
In a cold but thawed wheat-stalked field On a flat, January day He walked in the mud: arrow head horse shoe iron spikes. This land has owned his family for years.
Poetry | Fiction | Nonfiction | Art
In a cold but thawed wheat-stalked field On a flat, January day He walked in the mud: arrow head horse shoe iron spikes. This land has owned his family for years.