The Most Humble Love is nestled deep In the hearts of the most humble They are the lost The forsaken we only speak of As if this makes us care Our thoughts, only echos Bouncing off their dreams Small change, petty offerings Pools of pity at their feet This is not love Love hides In
It’s a short drive to the park. Winter has made a whimsical return as if to poke fun at Spring. Snow powdered trees appear to float in rainwater lagoons. I throw my daydreams into placid pools and wish for sunlight. In the foreground, flakes fall, melting instantly on a glass stage. In the distance, they
We barely finish dinner of cauliflower and chickpea coconut curry, when you suggest we dash to the beach. The sky, like a southwestern painting of burnt orange and turquoise is obstructed by the stately maple tree in our back yard. Donning my fall jacket for the first time this year, I welcome the brisk, blustery
