soft summer weather lingers
even in the rain—
but I’ve already turned away
towards every thing autumnal
pumpkin spiced or pumpkin colored
I eat the last peach in the bowl
ready for apples
soft summer weather lingers
even in the rain—
but I’ve already turned away
towards every thing autumnal
pumpkin spiced or pumpkin colored
I eat the last peach in the bowl
ready for apples
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