A wattle Seed, a stingless bee, a crow’s feather, a cicada shell

By Dallas John Baker

For once, winter came on time that year, right on the first of June. The sun rose just as high as it had the day before, but it had a touch less heat to it, and the sky was a clearer, colder blue. When the magpies sang in the dawn that morning, their song had a chilly sound. As did the whistle of the morning freight train from out west, which had carried farther over town than normal. Josh couldn’t c...


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