Wanting to Give Birth
Loden green moss and gray bark mark the trees, gathering rain and mists of fog as winter settles in with cold comfort. I rise from
December 29, 2019
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Loden green moss and gray bark mark the trees, gathering rain and mists of fog as winter settles in with cold comfort. I rise from
On Seventh Avenue near the crossing with Sandy Boulevard, thousands of crows fill the street trees, line the rooftops, the power lines, every pole and
I throw a line into the dark, the only bait hunger and a sense of what waits in the last hours of night. There are
I walk alone from the dark night leaving behind tormented dreams. Why trouble over details when the house is on fire? The soul needs solitude
The black body of crow sits heavy on a leafless branch surveying the street with dark inquisitive eyes. A low winter sun slowly burns off