I had a dream once that was red, and gold,
and infinite shades of blue...

Spring comes in the form of little
ugly pretty things...

Hope on the fingertips of branches!
Springing up in paisley-patterned green and gold...

Doors,
red, like a...

I cannot, I
cannot. Leave. I cannot...

I will show you
the universe in a clover leaf...

We stood under the deck
in the dark watching...

Thunder clouds, coffee brown
roll and rumble over town...

The summer is about to make its end.
The branches are to decorate their leaves...

The sunflower hangs
its head, grown heavy with seeds...

The best writers have childhoods
where I have an empty jar...

There are some things I know,
and the rest are steeped with me...