some days you lose that
small gratefulness for
what doesn’t shake the world
but opens you to turn
your face to the sun
even for a minute to be
thankful for remembering
how to imitate a flower
any flower even the tiniest
strawberry blossom
some days you lose that
small gratefulness for
what doesn’t shake the world
but opens you to turn
your face to the sun
even for a minute to be
thankful for remembering
how to imitate a flower
any flower even the tiniest
strawberry blossom
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