August 11, 1788               Mon Cher D.               I love it when you buy me clothing. Fashions for me to wear, meant for you to then take off me....

“You not from ‘round’ here, are you?”         Sam turned to find a brown-haired mousy little girl peering over his shoulder.  “How would you know that?”         “I ain’t seen ya before.  That means you...

A flock of sailing fiddlers flyDown flowing fountain in the skySeven-fold they fair my eyeAs life so faintly passes bySeven-fold the fearless fliersFinger through the fiery breeze,Symphonic plumage ever whiterFeathered phantom melodiesFlying, flying, never dyingTo each, the cool breeze...