morning fog hangs low over the trail as i run, the faint and familiar path leading me ... CONTINUED
your wildflowers
i. no flowers linger by the garden gate after this ice-cold winter. my gloves still lie in ... CONTINUED
a smile (in passing)
with a lurch the train shudders from the station. moving slowly at first, it picks up ... CONTINUED
a letter
i remember the letter, handwritten on white college-ruled notebook paper torn from it's spiral ... CONTINUED
white noise (in three movements)
i. butterflies are back in the yard after another cold winter. they drift in lazy circles ... CONTINUED
from thinnest air
i. the opening line never appears to land precisely, despite rehearsals prior to the main ... CONTINUED
Afternoon Nor’easter
Cold rain hammers clay roof tiles, its staccato rhythm hypnotic in a room devoid of ... CONTINUED
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