Category: Muse
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Winter in Frenchtown
If you have visited only in the summer, the weight of snowfall on this strip between the big and little lakes must surprise you. Winter here makes summer seem impossible — children running down dunes with nothing but swimsuits, beach towels tied like a capes, tiny sails on the horizon, or closer, Sunfishes capsizing into…
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Day 30
April is perfect in all conceivable ways apart from the pining separation from November’s divine dark
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Day 29
of all the angels who wandered and waited or not who landed before me here, there, what brings you to face me now? unwitting teacher player of basketball transient night flier, subtle questioner, what have you revealed of me?
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Day 26
long ago atop this wooded hill, breeze tossing leaves, Emerson’s pages ruffling, a habitat discovered
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Day 25
even the sundial loses all track of time following the breeze swarm through our sea of fresh pine needles
Poems from in between 