(Full Version)
She clambers atop the cardinal’s shoulders
Gently hooks soft knees over scarlet wings
Grasps the longest feathers of his crest
(Full Version)
She clambers atop the cardinal’s shoulders
Gently hooks soft knees over scarlet wings
Grasps the longest feathers of his crest
We waited, stamped our feet in the deep snow. Night was at its longest; Bitter Winter ruled. Today Santa Lucia would arrive, her crown of candles pushing back the darkness, her basket of hot cranberry-cardamom buns and those sweet, tiny oranges swinging heavy on her lissome arm.
But the dawn didn’t come. Continue reading
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