I. An August shower pours through the forest. Rainwater still drips from rattling leaves as a glowing mist shines fair in the morning light. The sun is just again peeking through the leafy boughs. Beaming rays illuminate the water-quenched dance of the soft, green canopy. Droplets bead and splash toContinue Reading

Today’s Red Death I have been shut in my house, my yard, and my neighborhood for the past two months, and I am getting frustrated with how drawn out all the government’s coronavirus safety measures have become. I have not seen my grandparents or friends during all of that time,Continue Reading