short poems about life and love

a wooden bowl forgotten on the patio and filled with rainwater reflects a crescent moon peeking between the limbs of sleepy pines...

i. Without warning the sky can fall in neat needle-stitched rows, precisely spaced and GPS guided to knife across terrain older than...

morning fog hangs low over the trail as i run, the faint and familiar path leading me deeper into memory. on both...

i. no flowers linger by the garden gate after this ice-cold winter. my gloves still lie in the mud room after these...

with a lurch the train shudders from the station. moving slowly at first, it picks up speed causing trees to blur past...

i remember her letter. handwritten on white college-ruled notebook paper torn from it’s spiral ring which left a jagged edge of hanging...

i. butterflies are back in the yard after another cold winter. they drift in lazy circles over a sea of bone-white snowdrops...

i. the opening line never appears to land precisely, despite rehearsals prior to the main event. and though they feel plucked from...