Spring will come; knowing this grows hope in winter, A grass under these thin drifts. Always spring has come with Her solace, Her winged sky her chick-a-dee in the willow. But comes a Spring with famine gathered in the gray skirts of this thin snow– Comes round at last, Her dark birds gyring a desert … Continue reading What Shape is This?
the vast winter sky with its few ragged geese Vs silent of “chick-a-dee”
Winter’s six angles tell the simple of infinity— snowflake. Posted also in response to the Word of the Day Challenge https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/01/22/magnify/ magnify
Between marble sky and snow hissing over snow— wind-ragged magpie
Lee Robison's poem "They Wheel him Out," which first appeared here on Writlee.com has just been posted on Drabble (They Wheel Him out). We really like the illustration Drabble selected for this poem. Thanks
I would not calumny Jim Fradering’s good name with the accusation that he could cook. He couldn’t. Jim’s idea of a meal not prepared by some other body was deli ham, mayonnaise, and white bread. In camp he had been known to boil eggs that gnawed like rubber, tasted like iron sulfide, and could be … Continue reading Jim’s Ham and Eggs
We had only cameras and yearning, but the wind rasped stone like a hot tongue, and camera and yearning were not enough to savor the ripening along the Jordan River, the salt sea, that bitter Wilderness wind and the candescent wafer of the sun. We entered the chapel, hoping for respite, ease, relief. There were … Continue reading American Christians Visit Mt. Nebo
“I am surprised not to see Diane Bill’s picture here,” Phil said. He stood in front of one of the glass front cabinets that Derby Milicance had placed against the wall of his living room. He said it loudly because he was speaking to Derby who was in the kitchen checking the casserole and putting … Continue reading The Quest is the Acquisition
The Last Lost River rises from waning glaciers, snowmelt, and springs in the Deception Mountains of Montana and drops precipitously and swiftly, with an anger and fury that only the most avid fishermen dare challenge, into the valley that shares its name. There it slowly changes character becoming first a rugged swift stream. Then, just … Continue reading She is that Gullible or the Story of a River
Once, back in the day a skinny, flat chester had rammed her knee into his crouch. That had hindered things.