It’s finally here
The cold, frosted air ready
To catch the votes we cast.
A nation of
Ever-hopeful fishermen
Casting and casting again
Not knowing yet,
At the start of this day,
Whether we’ll end tonight
Toasting the one we landed
Or reminiscing
About the one that got away.
there's a poem in every day
aka: The Happy Bookers
Artist
I came to where you were living, up a stair. There was no one there.--John Ashberry, "The New Higher"
custom poems on vintage typewriters
One Poet's Writing Practice: Poems by Mary Kendall
A Ronka Poetry Practice Since 2014
Living in the moment
Puff Of Smoke Poems 