Polka-Dots

I know of a shore that harbors magic: an old, forgotten magic that lies dormant beneath the rocks and pebbles of all shades and sizes. They sit atop the sand at least two feet deep and two miles long. In my memory, I return there often. The Atlantic whips the coast with salty daggers and …

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The Remington

Moments ago, I began writing a new blog post describing a late night scene from around midnight last night---moon high and air still---when I wondered why I go outside so late so often? Many of my posts have started off with something along the lines of, “It was hovering around midnight when…” I thought on …

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Little Wooden Bed

Not entirely sure what time during the night or early morning it must be, I’m watching the tree’s branches gently waving their shadows through the slits of the shutters on the second floor of my parents Houston home. King Ranch and I have made a trip down here for the weekend with Little Foot and …

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