In the midnight blue
a flaming sun dies, crackling
Dust left in its wake.
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A little known fact about me: I struggle through January and February (and sometimes even March) with the desire to not get out of bed. My e...
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Soft cloth brushing against my cheek as I turn over in bed.
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I've now written more haiku than the years I will live in my life.
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Soft beating of wings Against the dark window pane Trying to escape.
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Her silver tears reflect on the still pond as a howl shatters silence.
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by: Angela D. Published in the Decatur Herald and Review’s ‘Prairie Talk’ column January 27, 1998 When I was in fifth grade, my sister...
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I wonder exactly when I became my own worst enemy. Did it happen suddenly, or was it gradually, little wears and tears over time and space? ...
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Soft, steady beating Just beneath my fingertips Skin smooth to the touch.
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