Tag: Greg Huteson

One Could it be snubbing its near twin? The same white undertail, the same crisp yellow beak and yellow feet now skipping deftly after it

Gestures of Hope The stone hands rise, the feathered hands fall. The kneelers rise, the fey ladies float in broad pastel hats over stained oak

September  Still drowsy at the breakfast table,still staring at the stop sign bythe drive. A crow—perhaps a fable—laboriously lands nearbyto peer at seed or single

Last Hour Beside the lime-green pillow and the spread, he wriggled on a threadbare office chair while typing lines with rhymes like “Fall” and “pall.”