Honeysuckle fades
dies, wilts and withers away;
then flits off the vine.
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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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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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Floating iridescence shatters like glass in my hand.
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Black capped chickadee Sitting on my window sill Playing peek-a-boo.
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A cricket chirps and I run screaming from the room.
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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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Soft cloth brushing against my cheek as I turn over in bed.
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