Grace of the Unwanted
They call us tumbleweeds, as if that’s all we are. But I’ve fed cattle through dust-storm winters when all else withered. My thorns,...
They call us tumbleweeds, as if that’s all we are. But I’ve fed cattle through dust-storm winters when all else withered. My thorns,...
I measure love in broken bones I’ll never set. Beth comes to the hospital with a fractured radius—a clean break, the kind that...