tide call: grey waters rise as limbs raise sails
Tag: fiction
the old country road swells with pride as wildflowers take over
thousands of little rituals disguised as kindness
harvest altar: a hand shaped wooden bowl with incense lit beneath a luscious and wild tree
the evening mist settles with unearthly grace atop the hill home of furred gods
to each terror of the night I say: fly north and you’ll find death
the summer pond borrows its stillness from the moon
after dawn the old crow arrives with humanity’s greatest secret
without asking a sunbird blesses the doorway
go on and rage: a little thunder for the garden
