How does the self of the winter anticipate spring when all it feels is tightness of chest and aching bones? When a raging blizzard and a long cold lonely night are its only familiar yet unwelcome companions? To thaw like some majestic ice swan at a party, soon walked past and forgotten, floating in a puddle …
impermanence of lifeas is the nature of natureview dependent, I supposeflies corpses on the windowsill
Once my dad taught us how to make stoves from coffee cans. We sat on the cement steps overlooking the back yard on a sunny summer day and strategically cut little doors in our cans with tinsnips. The top of the can where it was rolled over itself in preparation for a lid was always the hardest …
The soft squish of not quite set mud that’s been kissed by last nites frost. It crunches when you first step upon it, the myriad of icy patterns exploding into a thousand shards of light against the morning sun. It shan’t be long until its warmth causes the trail to bleed; oozing and dripping from the roots …