Judith D. Dupree

The sun was fierce that day, relentless even in its shadow. Heat clung to the walls and troubled the air like a presence almost seen. She bent above the shallow bowl, pressing on the crush of wheat, grinding each stubborn hull beneath her clenched tool. Sweat trickled like a steady itch along her . . . . Continue Reading »

I will expose you, God, where You hide behind the great gray universe, twinkling stars like marbles through the airless air.I will trace the whorl of your great thumbprint, the dust of it, across the darkened sky. I will call Your bluff, and blow away the vapor . . . . Continue Reading »