Dana Djokic | Akateeminen Kirjakauppa

During the Winters of the 1980s in a small Northwest Indiana farm town called Dyer, where the days and nights were long, quiet and cold, I would often look out our kitchen window at the massive snow drifts and wonder if and when Spring would arrive. In the depths of depression and with nothing else to do, these poems emerged, one by one, like petals dropping from a big, beautiful red rose.