Betsy Barone
It was late Sunday night and everyone was tucked into bed, visions of sugar plums danced in their heads---wait, that's a different story! It was late Sunday night and I was still up working on the new issue of BirchLane, which is featuring a slew of poems and essays by some talented internet friends and the photography of Alaina, and I looked up from the computer out the window and saw the books behind me and a mirror photo in front of me.
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