dogtrax

Perched upon a branch of oak, the murder of crows foreshadows in shouts

Mourning my country, and questioning whether this place is still home

Solitary walk - stand inside the ballot box; cast the hate aside

for Election Day 2024

Chewing on Penicillin spores -

Gorgonzola, we're never bored!

Loosen up, bits, on the plate

Dress the salad - it's time we ate!

for DS106 Daily Create

A slight flash of red beneath the surface of pond; a tail, then its gone

Minutes and seconds, hours discarded like leaves; Decomposition

for Algot

That hour, misplaced back in Spring, returns again; a moment too soon

Cold, as if your bones might just break from the shaking, then comes the embrace

North winds always blow cold, collapsing the mountain inside a moment

Finding poetry in the dew of the morning, ghost writers at work