on the road, weather
drapes disguises over trees
tricks our hurried eyes
drive east with the storm
passing miles of white birches
look back on striped rows
and the costumes fade
into rows of dark brown trunks
snow-spackled maples
on the road, weather
drapes disguises over trees
tricks our hurried eyes
drive east with the storm
passing miles of white birches
look back on striped rows
and the costumes fade
into rows of dark brown trunks
snow-spackled maples
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