Morning Mist Rushing
Beneath Street Lamps Urgent and
Yet Ambiguous
Snow Falls Like Dreaming
Talking to Myself, Believing
Not a Single Word
January Thaw
Fog Mutes Calling Birds, Pale Sun
I’m Left Wanting More
Sad ain’t nothing new,
Joy, no bright eyed chick, despite
All our best efforts.
Going down in flames
Sometimes there ain’t no winning
In a perfect world
Today was only
A short list of minor things
Hoping they add up