a wooden bowl forgotten on the patio and filled with rainwater reflects a crescent moon ... CONTINUED
Nothing New…
i. Without warning the sky can fall in neat needle-stitched rows, precisely spaced and ... CONTINUED
morning fog
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
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