Amy Secrist

Tag: NaPoWriMo

  • When the Night Comes

    When the night comes and wind swirls past the windows, our little ones roar and rail against bedtime.  Darkly they sulk off to brush their teeth, blowing sighs through their lips, miserable like winter’s cloud-covered sky, empty like its bare landscape.  The day’s done in a snap, the crack of snowman’s brittle twig, his limbs twisted…

  • Clutch

    Wind roars darkly blowing Winter’s bare, brittle limbs across Spring’s path.       

  • My Two-Year-Old Says

    More than fifty times “I love you,” though the day is not near done. More than fifty times “I love you, too,” before the sinking, setting sun.