Scribbles Challenge: InThe Bleak Mid-Winter

I look at the blanketed ground in all of the white snow and wish that I could articulate what I see in words here. If I were Emily Dickinson, I would speak of the hues of shadows cast off of the pure and undriven snow. If I were Robert Frost, I would...

Scribbles Challenge: My Wish For You

I try not to wish. I really try not to hope. I try to hide and wait out the season of hope. I try to close my eyes and not look at the holiday cheer or hear the carols or pass by the lovers buying their gifts and flaunting their love. I try so...