Lay me in a fist-sized hole
feathered with rime.Filed under: epigrams, apothegms and conundrums, forest Tagged: frost, leaves
View Articleeven on land it still steers with its tail
View ArticleI hold onto an apple core until it turns brown
View ArticleI don’t notice the hunter standing in a tree
View Articlefine hairs stirring from the photographer’s breath
View Articlepale clumps of mountain laurel light our way
View Articleeven with these special seats squirrels still make a mess
View Articlered and green against the snow— Merry fucking Christmas
View Articledraws a circle on the snow with a trapped leaf
View Articlethe No Hunting sign nearly blank with age
View Articlewanting and not wanting to stroke its scales
View Articleturns out its true color is viburnum
View Articlethe blind dog lapping at her reflection
View Articlefeathered with rime.Filed under: epigrams, apothegms and conundrums, forest Tagged: frost, leaves
View Article