Sleep when the birds sleep Close your eyes when the birds do Wake when the birds wake. Below is an audio recording of the birds in my backyard at 5 AM. Every morning when I wake, I open the kitchen window…
A short poem about grieving the loss of my dad in my life and the crow that helps me alleviate this pain
It’s been a dry spring. The grass as crunchy as corn flakes without milk. The last rain I can barely remember now. The ants seem to appreciate the saucer of water I left out back for the birds on the picnic…
A curious wind enough to tip a vessel the morning you left.
A free verse poem.
A haiku for springtime.