last of the orange
blazes across these hills
as autumn lingers
reminiscing with the maples
over other seasons, long past
last of the orange
blazes across these hills
as autumn lingers
reminiscing with the maples
over other seasons, long past
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