moon beam
a wooden bowl forgotten on the patio and filled with rainwater reflects a crescent...
Nothing New…
i. Without warning the sky can fall in neat needle-stitched rows, precisely spaced and...
morning fog
morning fog hangs low over the trail as i run, the faint and familiar...
your wildflowers
i. no flowers linger by the garden gate after this ice-cold winter. my gloves...
a smile (in passing)
with a lurch the train shudders from the station. moving slowly at first, it...
a letter
i remember the letter, handwritten on white college-ruled notebook paper torn from it’s spiral...
white noise (in three movements)
i. butterflies are back in the yard after another cold winter. they drift in...
from thinnest air
i. the opening line never appears to land precisely, despite rehearsals prior to the...