Silent Symphony
With leisurely pause,admiring its own reflectionin the faint ripples of a quiet stream,a rising sun considerswith what tints, to paint this morning’s canvas. Night has stolen all bright color from these sleeping …
The Poet
I sit beneath this lonely willow treeand know, somehow, its tears are shed for me. That something still can weep helps calm my fears.My own eyes have been dry so …
Neruda’s Tasks
Like above and below, my duties achedto converge. One was to climb all the waydown to the bottom of things to cry with my kind in joy and pain,gasp with …
Run-On Sentence
The black bowl of heaven looming over us was freckled with ten thousand stars, which, despite the marvelof their brilliancecrossing the universefor untold eons,failed to impress meas much as the tiny stainsof …
On Filaments and Firmaments
Every night when Lady Lunabeams across the wooded steepafter daily clamor dwindlesand the children fall asleepEmma comes to tend the garden,kiss the flowers, and communewith the fairies, imps, and pixiesfrolicking …