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For Bonnie

Ever since the homestead days, when you, 
The eldest, baked the bread for barefoot boys 
Flushed from the corn for lunch, the care we knew 
Was testimony of your oaken poise. 

The Bowhunter

Jack slowed down, looking for a sign. Seeing none, he sped on down the highway, grumbling to himself. Dean could have given more specific directions — or better, first-hand instructions, not this friend-of-a-friend nonsense. It…

Here’s the Church

While the organist pumped 
“Let Us All Press on in the Work of the Lord,” 
and the chorister napped her arms 
like a whooping crane, and some sat there 

The Man at the Chapel

I wrote to my mission president for the last time almost two years ago during the final week of my mission. I think I expressed my love to him and my gratitude for the example…