The Search by Amy Barry

She walks under summer foliage. White hair, soft as the clouds. Her features caught in time’s net of wrinkles. Warm remembrance swept. Memories roam, in sunlight — a blue tit logged all it saw. Her search, real or unreal is not known. In the passing breeze, rimmed with tears, eloquent with pain, perhaps, it is here- in the thick softness of greens, flowers and earth, … Continue reading The Search by Amy Barry