A poem
Reach out with your stretching fingers,grasp the edges of the glass,see above the golden future,see below…
What makes thee elusive?
These seeds in my headare ideas that I need to fertilizeso they can grow,but sometimes it’s mewho has to…
This morning I sat
Yellow swirls down streetsDry since March–May now sees fledglingTomato plantsSturdy in wet soil.
A Poem
His watch tells him the day is about to close,From his vantage he can see all:The slick slither of water…
Don’t think so!