Francine Walls

There is no end to the darkness above my face – the darkness, moonless and without stars. Below me, a small mound of palest light fits...

The Ice-Cream Man in the little truck playing “Bicycle Built for Two” speeds up as I run out of my house wallet in hand with ice-cream...

Krista was the InterPlay Leader for the morning. She had just returned from Paris and Provence so we did “walk, stop, runs” to French...

The drums come from the back of the band the rhythm Jamaican the poet drifts to the microphone: “I killed a cowboy today I didn’t...

In this sweet curve of time we fly south, over the up-lifted earth of the Sierra Nevadas, gray-green forests brown where fire touched...