There must be a deep-seated need for a tax day related poem so here it goes. But then the next one is in keeping with this year’s theme. Continue reading →
Fourteen lines for day fourteen: The fair lad who wooed me held out his hands • bearing a flower that flew off, a dove. Continue reading →
I tire not of seeing the waves and seas of stars • above the hills and in my own garden of stars. Continue reading →
I brush the clouds away • See their tails fading • against the blue? Continue reading →
and I opened the door • to let that most wonderful • first warm air of spring inside. Continue reading →
The art of being wise is the art of knowing what to overlook.
