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…Happiness is the uncle you never knew about, who flies a single-engine plane onto the grassy landing strip, hitchhikes into town, and inquires at every door until he finds you asleep midafternoon as you so often are during the unmerciful

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Posted in Iron Tales, My poems, Quote, Wordsmith

December light

December is what we are When love glistens back the light in the baubles. We have the White and the Words. Words that move mountains tiptoe to touch the stars whet the wondrous luster of the sea travel with the

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Posted in Invisible stories, Iron Tales, My poems, Wordsmith
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