A Different End to Daylight

There’s bones among the thorns tonight— the treetops brush the wind, and clover and grasses quiver and glow. —Why, even the chipmunks sit up to listen. All nature seems to pause over my quiet colloquy as best it can. I sit in the rocking chair that I built myself, oh, maybe twenty-five, thirty years ago,Continue reading “A Different End to Daylight”