Tag: Garden
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Day 27
a night walk is never simple – shafts of gray light peel back tree bark and find squirrels opining through long hours
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Day 23
I wonder if the beams from streetlights singe your fine needles, exhaust you, if only true dark can heal you
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Day 15: A new war begins
Wouldn’t daffodils stay wrapped in their green shells, hands hiding their eyes, and inhale back into earth if it were really time for war? But, alas, they have no say, no predictive powers — they sway with the winds, bloom out of control — they only have power to ask us why? where? It is…
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Day 14
I thought I had ripped that vine down dead, but it grows on, out of reach, even in winter, mocking me and my scythe both
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Day 13
a word for soft green with deep crevices fluttering in dark, yellow-gold sunlight, unburdened by wet snow
Poems from in between 