wednesday

against a gray and gloomy sky
the crimson oak leaves wildly wave
they’ll drift into an early grave
forgotten by the passers-by

Read More

the dangling conversation

… for now, the morns are meeker than they were …

… and the crows above the forest call; tomorrow they may form and go …

Read More

november morning

when i woke this morning
the ground lay thick with leaves

Read More

thanksgiving on the prairie

gold-bleached grasses bend
in the wind while ice frosts
the slender fingers of every
black-barked tree

Read More

in between the lines

emily, i am tired —
emily, what shall i write?

Read More

early comes the encroaching night

golden hour has warmed
the brown of dry leaves
to bronze

Read More