72, I’ve written 3 Y-A historical novels of the Ann Arbor area. My website shows awards and publications.
From my website
Hey FolksFling those words into the fray, Storm the barricades with never-ending syllables. Immortal pledges still ring in our ears. The future holds more initiates.But the joy, the joy comes from: spelling out each sigh, naming the breeze, describing that next kiss.
Mary’s HusbandHe’s not just a pencil-sharpening teacher from New Jersey.He’s in the warp and weave of her life.He’s like a frog whose croak fills the world.He’s something out of the loneliness of nothing.
The Opium DenMy feet were up, uncomfortable in thick-soled winter bootsWhile the sedative coursed through my nerve endings.I remembered firmer feet in high-heeled summer shoes,Clicking in time to an inner pulse.A breeze over the Fox River falls cooled the back of my neck.My bra was tight, my white nurses uniform…