There is something
about Winter...

Should I place a stock of potatoes
along the banks of Jordan...

Her Momma passed in childbirth
when she was just thirteen...

It hangs on a nail, with no need for a shelf
Displayed in glory with no grand stories of wealth...

As the Sun Sets
Hues of orange drip into the landscape...

Saturday mornings
were made for bowls of Fruity Pebbles...

Bad Day
Wanting to scream "life's just not fair&quot...

I cry unto thee
Dost thou hunger linger deep...

Although clear in color they may seem,
Truths untold hidden in scheme...

Wrapped thick,
in putrid stench...

Autumn always found me
in pigtails, behind the moon...

Thou blackest of prey
shall peck the very eyes...