Posts
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Poem No. 78 of Many
Not the days when birds come back -
these are the days when cardinals come to life.
I never notice them in summer.
It is only when the snow begins to fall
that their bright red coloring appears at all. -
November existence
It’s November, and music and words have long become a refuge for me. They always held open arms for me, but now more so than ever. Every minute without music feels like I am being strangled. My violin has sprouted both a piano and a guitar. -
Emily Dickinson: These Are the Days When Birds Come Back
I'm grateful for these last few
warm October nights (always
thinking each one is the last) because
I am able to savor the last
bits of summer (blissful memories) when -
Afternoon sun in the fall
These past few months, I've fallen in love with
the way the afternoon sun rests
upon the foot of my bed & finds
its way to the windowsill across my bedroom.
In the past I only knew the sun -
Word Master, Attempt #503
Thoughts concerning poetry
words rhythms phrases
punctuation, and the like -
My Calendar Must be Wrong
It's October,
says my calendar,
but I'm not so easily convinced, even though
my cherry tomatoes tasted like pumpkins tonight
& I'm struggling to explain why.