Updated: Oct 29, 2020
Wind is up...
feels like fall
Lace the boots
stare at dirty dishes,
unswept floor
Clean the saw
cut some trees
"make wood"
1800 pages stacked
waiting to be trimmed
literary topiary
Wild brush, thickets
wood thrush, crickets
orchestrate in meadows
Along Moody Mountain Road
only company all day,
wind
and a solitary spotted toad.
Morning- fire lit. Early fall light flits in bits through yellowing beech leaves. Rust from leak patinas wood stove while sodden wood, just split, barely burns. Books of wisdom and wit stacked on shel
Foot on birch round for lumbar support. Books of Baudelaire Harrison Hesse and Thoreau. Piece of clay pipe And two white shells, found near Cloghane in Brandon Bay, on the desk, with a flattened slug
A cold winter night, and I read your macramé by candle light, listening to L. Cohen’s Famous Blue Raincoat. Thick falling snow quilts a gleaming brain tree shadows stretch, skeins of thought unravel t