Each
berry cluster
on the mountain ash
wears its tiny cap of snow
obediently. Mother tree says
that hats matter in the wintertime
Each
berry cluster
on the mountain ash
wears its tiny cap of snow
obediently. Mother tree says
that hats matter in the wintertime
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
A Ronka Poetry Practice Since 2014
Living in the moment