“Jane Doe #503”

By Laura Potts   Yes. Back then, I was child of a garden and pavement end. When homestead old was forest and fire, and high were the gold robes of fields which rose to my run, some say I tore up the moors. On that cold morning and grey, before day burst down a valley … Continue reading “Jane Doe #503”

“The Night Country”

By Laura Potts ‘The undiscovered country from whose bourn No traveler returns’ – Hamlet. Old winter hour, gloam and the glow of this last evening fire, after the time of the cold and away from my last-gasp hourglass and this passing grey; after the far-cast dust of my day when the half- light fields breathe … Continue reading “The Night Country”