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I don’t know by what happy omen
A creature from the past came by,
Her eyes despite her years so bright,
Her speech so brimful with delight, 104 more words

Summer Blackberries

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The fruits of summer in my hand

All sunshine and soil and rain

Sweet purple sugars leave a stain

Exquisite flavors from the land

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(An Envelope Stanza)

of what does this group of artists
speak under these fluorescent lights
gathered round those six white plastic
tables while wielding their tools

oh Dublin trips and stocking slips… 20 more words

November is a homeless month
weather neither fall nor winter
endlessly it wanders bitter
cloaked in grey

it’s November and an hour past
sunrise but clouds roost overhead
grey impenetrable soft-edged
reluctant I switch on my lamps

I strain my ears for the quiet
sounds that travel light on the fall
wind like the cheep of a roosting
bird half-muffled by falling leaves