All new writing is about grief. Who hasn’t, at least once, lost their way, Or lost friends, or keys? To be brief: All new writing
Same Jay Seen Twice I have not forgotten the way a bright blue jay can change a day. A month ago, he shuck down snow.
Saint of the Trees What is the proper sacrifice To please our Lord, the Saint of Trees? I asked the ferns for their advice:
Eastbourne in May We entered Eastbourne, a night-life free zone, where the benches were splintered and the beaches were stone. Residents with walkers
Cicadas I treasure what they have left behind, These bards who leave past bodies dirt-covered, Clinging, emptied, music-less, enshrined On a string as I