Written by Nancy Dillingham – I – She watches as her husband plows the field, getting it ready for planting. His back to her now, leather reins around his neck, he moves forward, gently clucking to the horse, pulling expertly on the reins, holding the plow in a straight row. ItContinue Reading
Written by Nancy Dillingham – I – Heat bangs off the dark blue and white Humko lard buckets, and they squeak as she swings them back and forth in either hand as she walks. Beyond the paved road, the now shaded, powder-dry path leads into the boundary. She walks along theContinue Reading
Written by Nancy Dillingham – (Mature theme) – – I – Across the road from the house he had built with his own hands which had five bullets embedded in its bedroom ceiling, was the pond, manmade and stocked with fish, but more often used as a swimming hole – especiallyContinue Reading
Written by Nancy Dillingham – (Mature theme) — I — Summertimes, my daddy’s uncle John sat in a black coat and hat on the high front porch in his house beside the creek, legs crossed, scrutinizing the world with distant eyes as it moved up and down the road beforeContinue Reading
Written by Nancy Dillingham – (Mature theme) ~~ Women have no wilderness in them, They are provident instead, Content in the tight hot cell of their hearts. By Louise Bogan ~~ — I — Her skin, like paper that has been folded many times and carried in someone’s pocket likeContinue Reading
