The hill faraway
The hill stands innocent as it always has – empty now, or perhaps drowsily crossed by weekend strollers. What is …
Tag Archives: poetry
The history of my way through water
Does water remember as I make my way across her on this diagonal again? I clear a wake, paddles’ light …
My father’s spade
leaning on a box in my cluttered breezeway my father’s spade pants, grip worn smooth, tail twitching, eager for his …
Geraniums (revised, again)
It begins with the scent of geraniums, bitter and hard, and my grandmother telling me not to touch because she …
Day 30
you would think when walking through woods at night that we’d stumble — but instead we learn to find a …
Day 28: And the greatest of these
is love — which is not really fair to say, for the three intertwine when you sit here, ready, and …
Day 27
a night walk is never simple – shafts of gray light peel back tree bark and find squirrels opining through …
Day 26
you, broad elm, shaved down to earth – I stand now on your great stump, yearn to be your medium, …
