Scent of Spring

In the throes of winter

I remember a Hazleton winter
The cars swerving off the road
Mountains of snow drifting ten feet high
The fierce winds showing no mercy

It was a relief to get out of the cold,
to be inside my father’s fruit store,
standing by the kerosene heater,
a refuge for my icy toes



Stories of Dennett (Wildflower) & Ben (Weed) & Our Guests

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Mark Tulin

A California writer/photographer whose dreams are more vivid than his waking life. Poetry, Humor, Sexuality, and Fiction —