All Posts By: Byron McCoy

               She watched her nephew play in the lawn and thought to autumn dream envisioned in see and live of place and light—just as it was then.                Had she seen it wrong, or was vision still becoming, living now but further sign, premonition, and affirmation of what was to become?                She did not […]

               She felt him in the sign: in yellow light of golden hour in sky-fall all around, glowing western sky in immolation that did not consume, but awed, and cast in span to reach and frame of horizon in all directions of her vast and open view.                She felt him in the dazzle.  She […]