Mist and fog and waters pray blindthis winter-of-the-heart hideawayi stop and wake and sleep again…
Not from stars at allThey fold their wings in our trees nowA vast clamor of voices shepherdingThem through autumn
In late May I lost my best and oldest friend to suicide and this week I lost my mum to Alzheimer’s. This is an elegy for my beloved grandfather…
The leaves on the ground could make a good puzzleWhy do they give up, anyway?It seems to be OK that they interlock any way at all
Solitary simple leafFlipped upon its backWeighed downBy rain of eve past
