what I love now is
candlelight, electric light
strings of fairy lights
because before dawn
my world is black and white, snow
and melted absence
not tree trunk, field, road–
until sunrise or snowfall
or springtime sweeps through
only the birds know
world’s about to change again
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 
Filled with portent, lovely.