The chill of Winter lingers and hulls our bones.
Always there is waiting for the Spring
but no one waits for the aches of ice and cold; Continue reading “The Stone”
in Winter’s Cold a viciousness:
a sandpapering of fingertips, Continue reading “Winter’s Chill”
The last butterfly
lies folded in the tool shed Continue reading “Haiku on a Butterfly”
When the snow came it filled the empty streets
and lay white pillows under the wheels of cars,
jamming them up to sleep. It spread sheets over chimneys
as if over noses. It made an old man fall. Continue reading “Snow and Civilization”
Robin’s found his lyrics;
flexes all his toes.
Sings! This little heart-throb.
Sings! The season’s rose. Continue reading “The Season’s Rose”