The wind is never still
Up on Babies' Hill
Coloured windmills flutter
The breeze blows as it will
Toys and flowers lie fading
Softly in the rain
A tearful gaiety
Preserves
Love for children missed
So sorely; yet their graves are kissed-
Are kissed-
Day by day by angels
As sun and wind blow over grass and fill-
And fill-
With breathing memories and pain
The grass on Babies' Hill
As flowers fade in the rain.
South Baltimore serves as the backdrop for this gripping story of three brothers leading very different lives but joined forever by the secrets of a painful family past.
Just as life during the pandemic was color-coded with different hues representing different levels of danger, life in its aftermath has become shaded in similar ways. As a self-styled “Seeker of Beauty with Beauty,” (borrowing from a quote by W.E.B.
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