Photo by Guillaume Briard on Unsplash
Search the mountain’s roots
Echoes from the dawn of time
Lie where no man’s walked
About the Creator
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More stories from CJ Shelton and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Last Light of Summer
The cicadas sang their final symphony as Maya stood on her grandmother's porch, watching the sun bleed orange across the Kentucky hills. September had arrived with its bittersweet promise—the end of freedom, the return to structure, the closing of another chapter in her rapidly disappearing childhood.
By The Curious Writerabout 12 hours ago in Poets
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