The Grape Harvest
Strolling on a lazy afternoon I passed the local grape-crushing site My senses felt the…
Strolling on a lazy afternoon I passed the local grape-crushing site My senses felt the…
Each morning espresso or cappuccino at historic chic cafe’s in rome, milan, venice and…
“My head was still resonant with song. . .” Mario Duliani they sent hundreds of…
A rough, work-worn wind beat the air when my grandfather spoke sturdy fingers contouring…
As I Watch My Father Fading As I watch my father fading I realize we begin our lives With…
Short back and long bangs, but our barber never got it right. Gentile’s place—you…
Mid-afternoon rays fell through the bay window’s lace curtain veil to rest warmly on…
what is it you want? I ain’t no jimmy stewart but just say the word by this lake that…
On that November morning, she slipped into the dress she’d worn to the last family…
This sunlight belongs in a Mediterranean harbour or outside the shade of a small orange…