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 screen that secrets You beyond our . . . . Continue Reading »