finding peace
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The hour before evening softens the day’s sharp edges and gives a tired house one small place to exhale.
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The work may not come with a paycheck, but every poem and page is building something real one sentence at a time.
A poetry library for the things that bruise us, the things that bloom anyway, and everything we become in between.
The hour before evening softens the day’s sharp edges and gives a tired house one small place to exhale.
The work may not come with a paycheck, but every poem and page is building something real one sentence at a time.