how would it be
to be one pine cone dreaming
at the top of one evergreen
on the side of one snow-covered hill
one of many among multitudes
all of us waking
below the bright white
winter sky
how would it be
to be one pine cone dreaming
at the top of one evergreen
on the side of one snow-covered hill
one of many among multitudes
all of us waking
below the bright white
winter sky
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