feet firmly rooted on the hilltop
gazing over blooming fields of green
thrush clutched to her bosom
silver spider silk weaving hair

bearing the scars of lightning
with names carved … Read the rest

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supple willows sway
tickling her with breezy hair
giggling, she skips stones


she rushes headlong
towards the tide’s siren call
fearlessly falling


under his hot gaze
eyes … Read the rest

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There are winged creatures,
flying freely in space,
who’ve invaded my home
and flown in my face.

Almost microscopic,
these small procreators,
who land in my wine,
are crafty, pantry … Read the rest

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walking the trails of Rockwood
I shake hair from a tight queue
while a tickling breeze sweeps
away the last of March’s slushriver

beaver are busy building
shady log cabin … Read the rest

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