The Mangled Tree
She comes back almost every morning to pray aloud and silently beneath the tree. Sometimes, I hear a few words of The Lord’s Prayer carried by the wind to my ears. This must be her sacred space.
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She comes back almost every morning to pray aloud and silently beneath the tree. Sometimes, I hear a few words of The Lord’s Prayer carried by the wind to my ears. This must be her sacred space.
Read More