An iceberg had drifted deep into White Bay, near the hamlet of Sop’s Arm, and was stuck there, depreciating quickly in the mild summer waters. Ed Kean and I were riding up to claim it. This was Newfoundland in June, where every summer the...
In search of pasture, a place to lie down in.Back to the mother breastor a dream of return
They say leap-year babiesare out-of-time, moony. I’m reallyjust two, closer to the womb
