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dedicated to M. L. P. my eyes are blue - identical orbs to yours, which reflect the sun floating in through the curtain. you have perfect pitch, but never minded my tone deafness when we cooked and baked side-by-side; your blueberry muffins always melted so sweetly in my mouth; I still can't get them to turn out like you did - what was your secret? it will probably remain a mystery, but we've shared other secrets. and we have the log cabin quilt we made - my first and only, your zillionth. just like you and Dad have shared the farm and horses. and how you exchange snippets of familiar topics with the nurse; she knew you before you came here. Uncle John visited you yesterday, he said you two walked outside. if it wasn't muddy today from the rain last night, I'd walk with you to the garden bench; you might sing to the birds in the bird bath, thinking you are in your own garden. the horses miss you, but Uncle John and Dad take good care of them, and Amy can't stay away for long. of us five grandchildren, Amy fell deepest in love with the farm - though nobody could be as in love as you. your quilts still adorn each chair, couch, and bed, and Amy still sings to the birds in her perfect pitch. but even her blueberry muffins are missing something; only you could make them perfectly. sitting here with you beside the window as light falls across your pinwheel quilt on the bed, you call me Amy. but I don't mind being Amy, as long as I'm with you. dedicated to a one, Ms. L. Peanut. Donnie was a very theatrical squirrel who one could say was both strange and normal, whimsical and staid. His best friend was Tolson the skunk and together they had many adventures across the forests and fields. Sometimes the pair would ride down the rivers on a raft made from birch bark, other days they traversed the corn fields by flying from stalk to stalk. They had many wonderful times together. Then one day, everything changed.
 a short fantasy tale set in a kingdom of rugged mountains. In a kingdom of rugged mountains, flowing streams and sweeping fields, a maiden of the queen's court met a knight at the last Royal Ball of winter. The festivities went on for a fortnight and they spent every opportunity together. They continued their friendship as winter faded into spring.
When spring began the royal family and their loyal servants went on holiday. While the royal family was away, a coup occurred and citizens that were loyal to the kingdom went into hiding. The royal family and their convoy roamed the neighbouring lands in exile where they found shelter and hospitality while longing for their home. Royal troops sent regular reports of their resistance to the rebellious groups. As the maiden travelled with the monarchs, she wondered what had happened to her knight friend. As the royals travelled into the outer provinces of their realm, villages befriended them and some of their convoy remained as liaisons. The maiden decided to stay in a quiet village nestled in a mountain valley while the monarchs travelled farther south. The maiden stayed with the village innkeeper and his family and worked at the inn and the bakery.  a short fantasy piece set somewhere in historical Venice. at the end
noise dims dancers pause. the room slowly empties footsteps fade merriment taken to other shores dissipation final. guests scurry away for Venice wakes at noon. lying alone amidst dust accumulated is a glass sparrow music has left it to sing no longer unbroken fragile precious dust, its only companion the glass sparrow waits |
