shamrock view, from the kitchen windowsill

closed green umbrellas,
and tulips in your mother’s vase
against chilled, dark glass

the always there hills
start once more, covered in trees—
day’s cold engine turns

same as yesterday
light opens the green shamrocks
calls me back, closer

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