1998, with spring coming in as the robins sing at the cottage on Maplewood Shores.

Oh to be here.

A tiny bit of ice left up at the top of the elm across the way, so high up the branches are like twigs. Only the tiniest birds having a nest that high up lest their babies tumble to the ground.

my new short fiction piece published to my Substack at the link if you’d like to read the rest

https://sarahbguestperry.substack.com/p/1998-with-spring-coming-in-as-the

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