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SMALL REFLECTION
It is that moment when the moonis a glaring crescent,slowly engulfed bythe impending night—when the few clouds give outtheir fading glowin the jaundiced lightof the sodium arc street lamp.It nestles the curb—at first a small bird—when touched, a twisted piece of root. I want to walk into the weed-strewnaging cemetery, stand in the shadowof the…
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ON THE SHELF
He found the cup by the curb one morning walking to the bus. He rarely notice things on his walk, thinking always about the day ahead. But this day he saw it, picked it up and put it in his messenger bag intending to clean it later, when he got home after work. He had…
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ON THE SHELF
He found the cup by the curb one morning walking to the bus.He rarely notice things on his walk, thinking always about theday ahead. But this day he saw it, picked it up and put it in hismessenger bag intending to clean it later, when he got homeafter work. He had no idea why he…
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DRAPERY
It was draped over the fence, a bridge for squirrels who would otherwise would go through the chain. There’s a sadness to its needles, many burying themselves in the accumulated snow, cast off by the great Spruce as extraneous, an old coneless branch, “that is the reason” the trunk whispers in the wind “why I…
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an old writer and his words 