Thursday, June 15, 2017

Do you know the first words uttered by Spring's red onions?

Roast me with balsamic.  Of course.  What a bending of stalks.  How their skin shines.  Shimmers.  Just what a poems is seeking -- a shiny skin and just the right touch of vinegar.

1 comment:


    The dream of something lifting, then being put gently in its place, returned to him as he watched her. All ties to the earth were reinstated, and yet, the way the tree dropped its flowers made her think of her first swim in a distant ocean, and the salt on her hair all morning.