Day 27
a night walk is never simple – shafts of gray light peel back tree bark and find squirrels opining through …
a night walk is never simple – shafts of gray light peel back tree bark and find squirrels opining through …
I wonder if the beams from streetlights singe your fine needles, exhaust you, if only true dark can heal you
Wouldn’t daffodils stay wrapped in their green shells, hands hiding their eyes, and inhale back into earth if it were …
I thought I had ripped that vine down dead, but it grows on, out of reach, even in winter, mocking …
a word for soft green with deep crevices fluttering in dark, yellow-gold sunlight, unburdened by wet snow
august thunderstorm tumbles along the pavement, whips city trees, casts spells on each hidden thing – even jealous river, birth …
Here we are again — you settled under light me lost in deep dark. I find your eyes cast down, …