Tag Archives: Anne McMaster

This Page

No boundaries mark this open page. Yet on the broad-horizoned land, Fields, mended hedges, broken walls Mark exactly where I may not go. A page – this page – is open to the sky. Times past, on snowy winter days … Continue reading

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Morning in Autumn

These mornings, now, that mark off the sloping path to autumn, catch and hold the quiet beauty of the year. Small roads thicken with seed-heavy grass and jewel-rich berries draw darkness down. These hedges ripen with silence now – only … Continue reading

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