Crisp conifer cone dreams in prehistoric pine. Asleep for lifetimes.
The beauty fades as their shadows shrink What yet remains for those barren bones? Unforgiving waves of winter Hammer harshly upon their vulnerable veins. Standing though swaying A memorized movement A rhythm well-rehearsed, Their limbs lay outstretched Reaching for ones... Continue Reading →
I needed this, it's true. First of flurries falling, try to be blue Each flake, a million chances I sit, watch their unique little dances Try to be blue, you can't, this spectacular show demands this You owe them after... Continue Reading →
the Periodic Writer 
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