Taking a walk, sunny and sweaty
Beneath a breeze, one gray feather
drifts down, lands on my shoulder
maybe a metaphor
maybe a reminder
of who we could be
Taking a walk, sunny and sweaty
Beneath a breeze, one gray feather
drifts down, lands on my shoulder
maybe a metaphor
maybe a reminder
of who we could be
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