April 24, 2026
I carved a heart you swallowed in bark
not out of hunger,
but ritual.
Every autumn you let go
more easily than I do.
Every spring,
you grew further from the boy who named you.
April 22, 2026
Plant, together, a sapling tree, beautifying our Earthly scene. It is important — we all agree, to keep the air we breathe clean.
April 15, 2026
The power lines hum,
low and uncertain,
like a man trying to remember
the words to a song…
April 12, 2026
A sneeze hangs in the air like a threat,
while the oak tree chuckles in yellow confetti.
My car wears a coat of guilty dust,
proof of spring's indecent proposal.
March 10, 2026
Bleak midwinter is on the wane. Frosty winds with milder wafts
fan iron-hard earth to coax stone-cold waters into a thaw.
March 2, 2026
They plant their seeds in the iron rich red soil, drop bait in emerald blue water; these faithful stewards live to fish and farm.
February 26, 2026
This planet, once a schlocky sketch
Made by December’s hue — graphite —
Becomes a splendid fresco where
The paints are flowers and sunlight.
The sky, a multiplex-like screen,
Displays a movie where a few
Small, plumy planes hide in the clouds
Then once again appear in view.
February 2, 2026
He is stout and portly, as he tells the future shortly. He’s a bit of a coward, preparing to run when, at the Knob, he first sees the sun.
February 2, 2026
“everyone who works below
and who drives through dirty snow
hopes that once the plow’s relief is nearly nigh,
all their work won’t be undone”
January 27, 2026
I’m sure there is some scientific explanation,
but the idea of the clouds needing to let it all out is nicer.
Even storms need to pause and rest awhile.
November 23, 2025
November 20, 2025
Brown leaves shrink to a crisp
on top of fading grass,
giving way to the underbelly of a pine.