As we begin
rain falls from fog through sleeping branches (frail, broken sticks?), soaks with slippery ease into soil to restore them Note: …
rain falls from fog through sleeping branches (frail, broken sticks?), soaks with slippery ease into soil to restore them Note: …
I don’t know what they do this time of night. I just hear them squawking. And they sound a little …
you would think when walking through woods at night that we’d stumble — but instead we learn to find a …
walking through woods in bare moonlight – shade over shade, black within black – I see what cannot be seen …
a night walk is never simple – shafts of gray light peel back tree bark and find squirrels opining through …
you, broad elm, shaved down to earth – I stand now on your great stump, yearn to be your medium, …
I wonder if the beams from streetlights singe your fine needles, exhaust you, if only true dark can heal you
rushing her work, damp snow plunges through night air, knowing full well her fate is to dissolve and river-away come …