The haunting yellowed-white of the winter moonhangs low in the cold black night.Round and nearly full, it dips below the branches and is gone.Here I stand, alone, and oh, so…
February is a trickster It plays us for fools in the guise of early spring, feeding into human longing and superstitions involving a rodent’s ability to see its shadow. I’ve…
Winter has come. The temperature has dropped, not as far as single digits or negative numbers, but cold enough that I sit wrapped in a blanket, holding hand warmers that…
Whether lying in the dark trying to find sleep, or driving alone in my car in winter’s black predawn, my mind tends to wander to poetic places I’d rather not…
Frigid fingertips wearing Bob Crachett gloves Wish for a fire but there is no fireplace I huddle in my blanket I imagine you and snuggle in your embrace You are…
