The Hope of Dirt
The shovel is my brother, a good companion as we play together in the dirt… and I am bigger for hoping— as I dig, as I turn soil & a few worms upside down. I imagine the tiny roots climbing low, low, low, while tiny shoots climb high, high,...
Arose She
Arose she at magenta sunrise, just after twinkling bouquets faded. The summer damask rose shimmered in an old cut glass vase beside her bed. He always left one waiting there. She thought of that other day, fifty-two summers ago, when her now-snow-headed sweetheart...
