NOVEMBER
The air
is pungent with decay.
Old bones
push out of earth
beneath
curled leaves.
Blackness
descends and hovers,
with it comes
a chill.
I like to write mysteries because I like to read mystery stories. It all began with the Nancy Drew series by Carolyn Keene when I was a pre-teen in the 1950s. I have four published novels, poetry and short stories.
In 1958 Her streets were paved in yellow brick leading to Fifth Avenue and 42 nd Street. You might have seen a zealous couple dance-walkin...
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