Poetry

If you were here I would put my hand on your heart and hold it there ...

What if diplomas were earned for the second definition of the verb "graduate" ...

May sunshine, and the old professor sits on his deck eating a cold beef sandwich ...

Aunt Louise listed her garden chores on a chart in the laundry room next to the garage ...

I stand at the trajectory of loss, sunset glare in my eyes.

The breeze is brisk like a crisp cup of water I drink sunlight on the Sabbath ...

It's surprising how a chaplain's visit will resemble a Shakesperean script ...

Quite near but to quite to the white tile balcony, at dusk there soared or flit an acrobatic troupe of house bats out for joy ...

Got nothing much to say. The golden trumpet trees chucked their blooms today.