morning ladies walk
laugh and talk in a gaggle,
sweep across our town
overhead, the geese
call and gossip through the sky
echoes snag in trees
all of them, above and below
full of grace, ideas and noise
an urge to hurry forward
with so much to say
in haste
to each other
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 