Friday November 23, 2018

Sunlight brightens as the thin clouds move off. Icicles begin to drop from the eaves, their shattering more elegant-sounding than any glass.


  1. I love how these short poems always seem to touch on all five senses. A wake up call.

    1. Thanks. The funny thing is, I’m not even trying to write poetry! It’s just that the present tense uses fewer syllables, plus I try to make them reasonably compelling.

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