March 2011
A Writer's Ruminations: My Mother on an Evening in... →
awritersruminations:
by Mark Strand
1
When the moon appears and a few wind-stricken barns stand out in the low-domed hills and shine with a light that is veiled and dust-filled and that floats upon the fields, my mother, with her hair in a bun, her face in shadow, and the smoke from her cigarette coiling close to…
