Poetry

“pugnacious white hairs sprouted decades deep on farm hands tangle with spring air….”

“you hold your lavender latte in your puffy red cheeks and let the heat slowly down your throat”

“Days trickle like honey. Squirrels whiz and dig around drifts to find underground treasure.”

“my hair began against the odds, in discomfort under a glaring sun and with burning flesh”

“once we sifted sand for seashell treasure over rushing water and storm-frothed waves….”

“In an ultrasound tech’s office, I fold my arms like micro-origami. Maybe I can hide under this crepe paper sheet…”

“dandelion clock—the fragile dismantling one puff at a time”

“maple leaves curled into veined orange goblets holding dew cocktails”