Those birds sitting on the treetops, still bare from the winter gone by
I remember the mop of blond lighthe wore like a crown& the way my daughters pointed to scratches on my…
How we silence ourselves and mockeach other — it occurred to me as I wasploughing through old paperswhere I found so many…
Childhood was simple in endless ways;
I remember the root and the ruin.It slips into quiet momentswhen I think I’ve forgotten,curdles like a summer’s day, takes…
Poetry
Late evening’s summer storm passed
At the beginning of the week