short poems about life and love

not the modern kind but vintage, an antique model with a black frame and just the right amount of rust (some would...

painted figurines. a line of rocks and crystals arranged by size, shape and alleged healing properties. and hovering just above stenciled butterfly...

beside a rickety back step painted pale gray an old tin watering can lays on its side in an overgrown flower bed...

so much once depended on williams’ red wheel barrow sitting beside chickens ranging freely across some farmer’s front lawn. now a mini-mall...

a slight turn of head. her liquid gaze caught mid- frame which sails past all your defenses. face to face with infinite...

a single drop of dew heavy with the weight of the world hangs like a pearl from a green fingertip of leaf...

in the grandest scheme a flower is a flower and nothing more to be admired or consumed or each in turn (just...

cut and arranged. stacked high on display in a black earthenware vase. a flower in a field is still a wild thing...