20 posts
Late Fall Brew
–—It belongs to memory We set the table anyway,not out of hope,but out of habit.A plate where laughter used to sit,a glass…
Late Fall Brew
–I arrive without footsteps,yet everyone feels me near.I sit at every table,though no chair is set for me here. I can sweeten…
Late Fall Brew
–—a day where the world feels a little unpolished, and the coffee cools faster than the spirit can catch up You didn’t…
Late Fall Brew
–I arrive before the feast,but I’m gone before the prayer.I bring everyone together,yet I’m never actually there. I fill the room with…
Late Fall Brew
–—A quiet midpoint in the month, where the cold starts speaking in full sentences and the world feels suspended between belief and…
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…
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.