Twenty-four

In the silvery light of morning when nothing else matters, save the thread of a cock crowing in the distance; face of my beloved etched stilly in that pale gleam before sound, as might have existed in the beginning, prior to clamorous tires on asphalt; kettle set to...

Awash

I’ve never understood where the salve to heal the trauma of living as a mortal human exists, save in my own heart; I cannot impel you to live by my own standards yet notice eyes brimming with perpetual misery, reflect back on my own need for it, the drive to feel...

Ebb as Flow

When I lived in Maine where seasons merged at nature’s whim, I was often devastated by the sudden and profound advent of the equinox. In thirty-two sets of seasons, I can honestly say I was never fully prepared. Perhaps as a result of my birth and upbringing on warmer...