Blog, My Poems

Highway / Windmill

                                 Asphalt and salt, the tires burning in the heat. The crops are dying. Brittle limbs, the yellow tinge, still reaching upwards. And then the windmills—their large, mechanical frames, the hooked fingers, spinning in the slowest circles. The power. And… Read More Highway / Windmill

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Blog, My Poems

The River Turns White

  with skyline and sun. The dark shapes on the water are like turtle shells, inverted and empty, then sinking as the sun moves higher. Fish rising and falling with sea and storm.    

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