Seasons

The sweeper looks surprised when I say, “Treat the dried leaves with the same respect you give the dead.” I hear the leaves crying out in anger when trampled by insensitive feet. The widowed branches are unsure if they want to mourn the departure of the old or welcome the new arrival. Seasons always put … Continue reading Seasons

Getting Real

a new day shapes upintangible horizonsrebuff eager gripshands struggling to hold; remoulda hazy future to bright -Vision transcends only what the mind can comprehend- comfort zones beckondarkness envelopes sweet dreams-manifestationis a battle to be foughtenvision the probable Tanka Tuesday