Independence Day
Aug 31, 2018 · 1 min read
These are my options. I don’t want them.
Wood smoke scents a summer breeze. Men stand around with hands wrapped around cold cans. Women chase children and set tables. Voices echo from open windows. These are my options. I don’t want them. Hidden in the shade of a weeping willow, words fall from my pen, unravelling onto the page. This is Independence Day.

