The bees are buzzing telling me spring’s flowers have come alive But you aren’t. We disagreed about white walls…now I concede. It makes everything else the source. so now the teal pot, and there the red bread canister Holds a welling feeling of aliveness, of a certainty of existence. the white wall We traded places … Continue reading
Tag Archives: death
always
sometimes at dusk the suns gentle light cuts through the tender heart I harbor and the loss of you flutters before me as a gossamer moth… luminous tissue too delicate to last in this world And I was an owl in the day to your truth that bounce in your step a thin veneer and … Continue reading