Folded Word
Exploring the world, one voice at a time.
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To Be Tacked On Corporate Doors
A bird stands in heaven. Spring. Cold, still. Taking the day one sky at a time. How deep the beats of wings, how smooth the gusts that raise them. Beauty. Spring cold. The sky one day at a time. Beauty still. We humans belong…
A Tall One
Upon my deck, a vodka poured up tall, I gaze out over my domain of green: An acre verdant wrapped in grassy shawl And sunset rain to add a glassy sheen. King Arthur with his table round and fair, Bright pennants on his soaring…
