Guest Poet: Denise duMaurier

SnowdropA daystar opened in my row of dead leaves pallid from the wind a golden center ready for the slug that finds it blind and eats it whole. Feet that feel no miracles will stomp on it thinking it a weed in the way of clearing fallen bark and broken twigs that quit the tree.ContinueContinue reading “Guest Poet: Denise duMaurier”