a small herd of elk rummage through a pile of sugar beets. the buck stares out at the road, protecting his own from cars that swerve through unlit country roads a bright light shines in his eyes, and instinctively bugles. the herd runs off into…

The Firefly And The Moth 1/2 marathon poem #9 In the strange heat of an English summer Where the firefly hides within a bottle Safely glowing behind a glass bulb’s wall In these trying times he’s out of trouble In the strange heat of an…

I was in my cottage… And this strange little bird … popped in. He told me, “Ain’t this heat like sin?!” I looked at the treeline; shaking the lethargy of my quarantine. There my porridge sat, and ZOOM, the bird spat! I saw he wore…

The cottage hid behind the treeline. A firefly circled my bottle of Stella.   It was good to breathe without the mask. It was good to escape the heat and strange faces of the desert city.   The lethargy of summer in my knees, The…

Brought to a lake six-thousand-feet up in the Colorado Rockies forty years have passed and I wonder if it is the altitude or the view repossessing my breath have found us goat-like on the move, jumping from rock-to-rock tempting foot-soaking fate or worse I would…

There’s this feeling of Awe When you’re in the City With Towers to humble Even the mightiest of all — Saw the sky scrapped With pillars of steel And glass, reflecting the clouds They level — Making you feel as Little more than an ant…