Late Fall Brew
–I strut in sunshine, proud and round,a crown of bronze upon the ground.But come the day of thanks and feast,the host remembers…
Late Fall Brew
–—this poem lives in that liminal space, the practice round, where you rehearse thankfulness the way one rehearses a difficult truth; softly,…
Late Fall Brew
–—this is the day when the house itself starts preparing for winter, wood contracting, vents sighing, radiators clicking like old bones It…
Late Fall Brew
–—this is the day when sweetness feels optional, memory feels edible, and the act of stirring something into your cup becomes a…
Late Fall Brew
–—by now the world feels like it’s running out of color, holding its breath before the cold fully claims it This one…
Late Fall Brew
–—this is a day of reflection in the literal sense, dim windows, softened light, and the quiet confrontation of seeing yourself softened…
Late Fall Brew
–—kitchens hold their own histories, and even the stove seems to know more than you’ve told it It hums before you touch…
Late Fall Brew
–—the light feels paper-thin now, and every exhale looks like something trying to escape This cup is for what rises and doesn’t…
Late Fall Brew
–—the caffeine still does its job, but the energy doesn’t reach joy anymore This one’s about that hum: the small, unspoken guilt…
Late Fall Brew
–—that brittle stretch when the trees finally give up pretending it’s still autumn Today’s cup is a meditation on what remains when…
New essays, stories, and poems delivered when they're ready. No schedule, no algorithm, no spam. Just the signal through the noise.
You must be logged in to post a comment.