Singsongs in Summer Swelter

Sunny summer days of my yesteryears lumbered and lulled. Hours hung heavy in the humid air.

To occupy those drawn-out dog days, I dangled my tiny toes in trickling streams, carved crooked creatures in cracking mud, climbed creaking limbs of ancient oaks, and imagined dragons cavorting in cotton ball clouds.


Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honahlee.


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Half-Past Life

I am standing at the top of the hill, ready to start my descent. Before I begin the second half of my life, however, I would like to take the time to tell the story of my life so far.

I was born in the hippy generation to two non-hippies. At the time of my birth, my father was 17 years old, and my mother had just turned 18 a couple of weeks before.

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