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On the Hill
Cool prairie wind blows strands of hair across my brow. We are surrounded by people. Some I know and some I don’t. Their wet eyes are on us. Across the field is the…
Writer, Maker, Bookworm
Cool prairie wind blows strands of hair across my brow. We are surrounded by people. Some I know and some I don’t. Their wet eyes are on us. Across the field is the…