Nebraska is my mother’s birthplace, a state of wide skies and endless fields. My own visits there remain vivid—especially September mornings when the air carried both warmth and a slight chill, as if the land itself was pausing between seasons. When I came across this poem by C. M. Barrow, I felt as if someoneContinue reading "September Morning in Nebraska"| Rebecca's Reading Room
John Russell McCarthy’s poem took me back years to the boreal forests of Northern Manitoba, where I grew up. I vividly recall walking among the poplars in early September. This brief, lyrical poem …| Rebecca's Reading Room
