Nature. I see Her go to sleep every night, only to awake every morning being less than what she was the night before.
seasons slip
between one another
time advances
I am aware of my mortality. I see it not only in myself but in others, in the world around me.
Acorns.
not enough this
year
Wounded by love, how do I stop the bleeding? Is the scar a reminder of my foolishness or merely a wrong turn?
Lovers spin
the best tales
at night
Have I given my children a dying world? What is to become of them when I’m gone?
letters:
an old shoebox;
unread