when i woke this morning
the ground lay thick with leaves
All articles filed in november
november walk
a sparkle in the morning sun —
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the end
everything that begins must finish
nor would i wish it to continue
dear those these days have been
thanksgiving on the prairie
gold-bleached grasses bend
in the wind while ice frosts
the slender fingers of every
black-barked tree
in between the lines
emily, i am tired —
emily, what shall i write?
early comes the encroaching night
golden hour has warmed
the brown of dry leaves
to bronze
prime
awake, my soul
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the body of Christ
what did You look like
Son of God?
i have only seen the surface
I have only seen the surface
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Eichel Mütze
come let me wear you!
cried the little rusty tam
