by Patricia Gaille Tiu (Grade 11) a whistling chorus of the thrushchides me gently to listen, hushnow to the sweet, sweet melodyof a mother ‘bove her aerieand as I ponder ‘neath her tree –a picture in burgeoning green,glistening in the sunshine’s hues,and buds that bloomed the brightest blues “how dost the wintry season gofrom the...Read More