Updated: Jun 26, 2024
Formless,
I drift on a
caravan of memories.
Timeless,
I wait for the
present to take form.
Shadowed shapes
surround me.
Drawn to the window,
I press my cheek
against cold glass.
Bare black branches
crook upward,
cradling huddled birds.
Steady hills
stretch toward dawn.
The bright shining light of a morning sun falls upon her shoulders. She coaxes greens and dandelion from the springtime garden. The...
Sissy stands in ankle-high grass, her back to the hill, her arms raised regally above her chestnut hair. Down-field, by the creek, her...
"How long will she be here?" my dad asks, holding his fork midair, as though he can not take the bite until he hears the answer. I wait...
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